Discipline
by Sunnykisses
Summary: Morgan Benson returns from military school after a quiet graduation. He's different-quieter, angrier, stronger. He works to build back the faulty relationships with his family, but even his siblings can't seem to figure out what's truly bothering him.
1. Home

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter One

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><p><strong>Author's note: Morgan left for <strong>**Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy**** after Jax was presumed dead. Although Carly said she received positive letters from Morgan during his stay on how much he loved school, my story tells a different tale.**

**I have aged Morgan, so that he has graduated from school and is returning home.**

**Enjoy and feedback is always welcome!**

**Special thanks to my Beta, Spencersgirl27**

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><p>"<em>A cadet will not lie, cheat, or steal, or tolerate those who do."<em>

~New York Military Academy's honor code

Dante Falconeri drummed his fingers against the steering wheel of his car. With his other hand, he counted down the years since he had last seen his brother, Morgan. One, two, three, four years? He couldn't be sure. Morgan hardly came during the holidays. Actually, he hadn't returned to Port Charles since he left for school years ago. Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy, to be exact. The name meant nothing to Dante. He missed his brother. He missed watching Yankee games in his apartment, playing catch in Morgan's front lawn, trading baseball cards…all right, maybe their relationship revolved around one sport, but it was still something.

Ah, what did it matter? It wasn't like Dante was going to see Morgan any time soon. Morgan was as good as gone from Port Charles, and good riddance. He deserved better than a messed up place such as this. Port Charles wasn't a good place for a kid to grow up. Port Charles was for hard headed adults—such as himself, or so he liked to think. Maybe not, maybe he really wasn't cut out for Port Charles either. Sometimes, he went back to his childhood, his many years in Bensonhurst. Those were the days. His mother, Olivia, was always there for him. Dante never felt anything but love for his mother. He was surrounded by doting aunts and uncles at all times. And those aunts and uncles had children, and those children had children.

Bensonhurst was most likely half Falconeri.

Countless family did not mask Dante's yearning for a father. He told himself he didn't need another parent. _He_ would be his own father; _he_ would help his mother any way he could. Very slowly, however, the absence began to weigh on him. Between various sports, homework, and everything else that came from hovering, stubborn, and completely independent Italians all day hardly left any room for being the boy—man—he wanted to be.

And if Dante thought growing up without a father was difficult enough, he couldn't even begin to fathom what living with Sonny Corinthos was like for Morgan. Constantly under the threat of a random mob attack...that fear alone would have torn Dante apart.

Sure, he wasn't _glad_ Carly sent Morgan away, but he was happy he was safe. He wasn't Morgan Corinthos anymore. He was Morgan Benson, Carly's son, not the heir to a mobster's throne.

Before Dante knew it, he had reached the familiar door to his apartment. He sighed, shaking his head and reaching for his keys. He thought too much. All he wanted to do was to see his beautiful wife. He thought he heard a noise from behind him, but ignored it. Pushing open the door, he let the world slip away and received his wish.

Lulu Falconeri stood by the door, a phone pressed to her ear. With her free hand, she pulled her husband close. He kissed her cheek softly before letting his arms hang loose around her back, taking in her intoxicating scent and letting his head rest in the crook of her shoulder. He whispered her name softly, closing his eyes and sighing. He and his police partner, Delores Padilla, had been working on the same case for what seemed like years, and were getting nowhere. And Lulu, she had just returned from Dr. Robin Scorpio-Drake's funeral. Something in her eyes told him that it didn't go well.

"…I was just; I was wondering if it would be all right, that's all." Dante could hear snippets of the person on the other end of the line. It was a man, Dante could tell, and he sounded nervous.

"Don't you want to see your family first?" Lulu asked just as warily.

"You are my family, you and Dante." The voice on the other line said.

"Of course." Lulu nodded. "You can come whenever you'd like."

"I'm standing outside."

Lulu clicked off the phone in an instant. Her eyes were wide.

"What?" Dante looked up, pulling away. "Lulu, what's wrong?"

"It's…" She tried to find the words. "It's Morgan."

"What?"

"He's here. He's _here,_ Dante. He's standing outside right now." Lulu explained, hurriedly moving to clean off the kitchen table, dirty with Dante's manila folders from work and other things she had set out randomly. "We're not ready."

"For my little brother?" Dante laughed off the weird feeling he had in his gut. "Lu, we'll be fine. He's been living in a military academy for years; he'll probably be relieved to see some clutter."

Lulu gave him a look, but gave in. Dante winked at her, heading towards the doorknob, pulling it open as fast as he could.

Tall. That was the first word that came to mind. He was much taller, stronger, too. Morgan had tucked his crisp, white, cotton shirt into his long camouflage pants. A large, khaki bag slung over one able shoulder. His hair was shorter, buzzed. Morgan looked at his older brother with different eyes—darker, more mature, and definitely exhausted.

"Good to see you." Dante nodded at his brother, who was nearly stronger than him now. Morgan nodded, his hands itching to salute, but he kept it by his side. He let it reach out, reach towards Dante. Dante took that as his cue, turning the handshake into a hug. Morgan was shocked at first, dropping his bag at his feet. Seconds later, his arms came around Dante's back, and he returned the hug. He couldn't remember the last time he had hugged his brother and he tightened the hold on him. It was so good to see Dante. He was the first person he talked to since returning to Port Charles nearly a day ago. He didn't know where to begin, so he parked his car under the stars and slept and restless sleep.

"All right, man." Dante laughed, pulling away. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah." Morgan admitted. He let Dante take his bag and followed him into the apartment. Lulu was standing there, smiling at him. He hugged her too—he liked this hugging business. Cadets didn't usually hug.

"How have you been?" Lulu asked. Morgan shrugged. There was so much to tell, nothing he could say in one night. He looked down, scratching the back of his head. The last time his brother and Lulu had seen him, his hair was thicker, longer. Now it was short and trimmed. He noticed the glint of diamond on Lulu's finger. Looking over at Dante, he saw the corresponding gold band. He looked so comfortable, wearing a wedding ring, like it was meant for him.

"You two got married?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, Christmas day." Dante smiled.

"It's not what you think," Lulu assured him. "It was just Olivia and us."

"Yeah, and Ma invited half of our family. They were waiting outside."

"And half of your family is like, half a million." Morgan put in. Dante laughed, patting his brother on the back.

"Where you staying, man?" Dante asked, gesturing for his brother to sit on the couch.

"Uh, my car." Morgan looked down, sheepish.

"What?" Dante and Lulu said at once.

"That's crazy," Lulu shook her head.

"It was pretty calming, actually," Morgan put in. "I got to sleep under the stars."

"That-a-boy!" Dante chuckled.

"You're just like your brother." Lulu rolled her eyes. "You can stay here tonight; we can take you to the Metrocourt tomorrow if you want."

"Yeah, uh," Morgan shrugged. "I was thinking of renting a room at Kelly's, instead."

"Don't you want to see your mother?"

The question stayed with Morgan the entire night.


	2. Directions

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter two

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><p>"<em>Don't you want to see your mother?"<em>

At first, Morgan thought it was a silly question. Of course, Morgan wanted to see his mother. And, then, suddenly, he didn't think it was so silly. He didn't want to see his mom. He wanted to see Josslynn; he missed her like crazy. He wanted to see Michael, Kristina, and Molly, for sure. Maybe he would pass by Abby's apartment later in the week. He would visit his father, perhaps, although that idea didn't really entice him, either.

Carly and Sonny.

Sonny and Carly.

They were like two bad omens in his life he wanted to forget. Of course, they meant well, and they loved him, that's what parents did. Morgan realized he knew better. Now, his father didn't seem so heroic anymore. And his mother, well, she had sent him off to school, hadn't she?

The person Morgan really wanted to see was Jasper Jacks, and he was dead. Morgan had loved Jax so much. While Sonny went around raising havoc, Jax remained constant, an unfaltering figure in his life. When Jax and his mother had dove head first into a custody battle, Morgan almost felt himself leaning with Jax. It was horrible, he knew, but Jax always made him feel safe, and maybe that was what Joss needed, too. Honestly, Morgan just wanted Jax and Carly to reconcile, to become the family they once were.

He almost was adopted by Jax. Morgan Corinthos, now Morgan Benson, would have been Morgan Jacks. Wouldn't that have been nice? Before he could sign the papers, however, Jax was killed. He was in a terrible accident; his plane had crashed into the river. Morgan couldn't understand it, Jax was a talented pilot, and something seemed off to him. His mother was devastated, of course, but she had her new guard, Shawn, to take care of her. And maybe that was for the best. Shawn was a good man, a former Marine. Morgan respected that then, and he did now, now that he knew what it meant to be part of the Armed Forces, if only in an academy.

Morgan adjusted the pillow on the couch, so that he could wrap an arm around it. He couldn't sleep. It was six in the morning and he wanted to get up. He felt like he was back at school, and he was going to get in trouble if he wasn't up, dressed, and attentive. He tried to tell himself to relax, to rest, but he couldn't. He was entirely too tense.

He shot his brother and sister-in-law a glance. They were a tangled mess; Lulu nestled comfortably in Dante's arms. He wondered if they went to sleep like that, or if it was involuntary. He wondered if they loved each other so much that even in their dreams they reached towards each other. He slowly got up, as quietly as he could, and took his suitcase to the bathroom.

Unzipping the luggage, Morgan searched for something that wasn't camouflage, something that didn't scream 'army brat'. He found a pair of Nike shorts and an old Yankees shirt. Reggie Jackson, his all-time favorite Yankee.

Standing up, he put aside his clothes on the counter and grabbed his razor, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste. It was weird, the last time he was at Dante's place, he was a kid, and didn't even know the proper way to shave. And deodorant, as embarrassing as it was to say, wasn't really a priority. It wasn't any other twelve year-old boy had hygiene on their minds.

While shaving, he noticed a discarded brochure on the smooth countertop. He picked it up, frowning. _In loving memory_, it read, _of Dr. Robin Scorpio-Drake. Mother first, then wife, then doctor. _Dr. Scorpio-Drake. Morgan tried to remember the faces of the citizens here at Port Charles. Slowly, it came to him. The kind, pretty doctor, although she hadn't gotten along with his mother, he always considered her a good person. She was married to another doctor on the staff, wasn't she? Yes, Dr. Patrick Drake. Morgan felt bad for Dr. Drake, for their families, and for the hospital staff themselves. She was a very good doctor, he recalled, it would be hard to find someone to match her skills.

Morgan sighed. _Port Charles was simply full of bad luck,_ he mused, turning on the shower.

* * *

><p>Johnny Zacchara drove his car slowly down the road, scowling. 'John, son, my petunias are wilting', his grandfather says. So <em>he<em> had to go and get special soil for Anthony's plants, scattered around his penthouse. Johnny didn't know what angered him more, the fact that this was a total waste of time, or how Anthony had called him 'son'.

Well, what would have Johnny preferred? Grandson? It's not like he called Anthony 'Grandpa'. He didn't know what he should call him. If Johnny had his way, he wouldn't have to _call_ him anything.

He looked down at the poorly drawn map in his hand. In other words, Anthony had written the directions to the florist on the back of a paper towel.

"Thy will be done." Johnny grumbled to himself. He turned an unsteady corner and rolled his eyes. His father had no idea where the florist was. He had just reached a bunch of apartments. Parking his car, he grabbed the towel and took a better look at his father's instructions. He kicked open the car door and let in some cool, fresh air. It was a gloomy morning, the sky cloudy and threatening rain.

_Take a left when you see the sun. _

"What the hell?" Johnny groaned, ripping the paper up. What made sense to his father definitely made zero sense to anyone else.

Johnny could hear the soft padding of shoes hitting pavement from further ahead. He glanced up to see a young man running past him. He was tall and strong. He would stop every so often and do a couple push-ups. His hair was short and neat, his skin unnaturally tan for such a gloomy March. There was a familiar air about him, something he couldn't place his finger on. He frowned, watching as the kid ran past his car. Then, it dawned on him.

That was Carly's kid.

He had the sudden urge to get out of the car, to talk to Matthew—er, Morgan. However, he stopped himself. Besides, what would he say? _Couldn't help but watch you run. I'm sleeping with your mother. Pretty sweet shoes you've got there. Does Carly go for younger men, just out of curiosity? _Johnny didn't know what older women did to him. They were mature, beautiful, and full of life. They had had their share of ups and downs. Johnny could relate with that. The last woman he had dated, and older woman, that is, was Olivia Falconeri. Morgan's brother's mother. What did that make her, his half-aunt?

"Hey," Johnny all but jumped out of his car, stopping Morgan before he crossed the street. "Hey, Morgan Corinthos?"

"No," the young man shook his head. "Morgan Benson."

"Benson?" Johnny smiled. That was Carly's maiden name. "I like that. Unfortunately getting away from your father isn't that easy, take it from me."

"John Zacchara." Morgan seemed to suddenly remember who Johnny was. "You're the guy my father hates."

"Actually, that would be my grandpa, but he's not too keen on me, either." Johnny corrected. It felt weird for him to say 'grandfather'. It didn't feel right—because it wasn't. It was horribly wrong.

"Grandfather? I thought-"

"Yeah, we all thought. Listen, it's a long story, kid. I was just wondering when you got here?"

"Two days ago." Morgan looked at him cautiously before speaking. "I just graduated from school."

"Here in Port Charles?"

"No, Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy. It's a couple hours away." Morgan responded.

"Wow, you must have been a pretty bad kid, huh?" Johnny laughed, but Morgan didn't think it was so funny.

"Okay," Johnny cleared his throat. "Just wanted to say welcome back. See you around."

Morgan raised his hand to salute again, but let it fall awkwardly. He didn't really have to salute anymore, and he didn't think Johnny deserved it. He went for a nod instead and hoped he didn't look too stiff. He really needed to relax.


	3. Dreams

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter three

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><p>When Morgan returned from his run, Dante and Lulu were still asleep. <em>Well,<em> Morgan supposed, _it was Saturday._ He picked up the newspaper from outside the front door and placed it on the kitchen counter. Then, he sat down on the couch and began to untie his shoes.

Lulu and Dante were still in the same position. He was still holding her; she was still nestled against him. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of his shoulder. Morgan checked his watch, it was 7:15 a.m. He supposed that was still considered 'early'. At school, he would have been doing his morning exercises with fellow cadets.

Johnny Zacchara was right, military academy was for tough kids. Half of the students he roomed with were expelled from their previous school, or 'suspended indefinitely'. In some cases, Morgan had an advantage. However, in most cases, he was on the short end of the stick, unfortunately.

He lay back down on the couch, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. He needed to relax.

* * *

><p><em>Morgan watched his mother's car drive away for the last time. Behind him was Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy, and in front of him was a lost cause. Carly was already halfway down the street. He slowly picked up his suitcase and headed towards the main office. <em>

_A gruff looking man was waiting for him. He was incredibly strong and tall. He gave Morgan a once over. _

"_You the new kid?" He asked. His voice was hoarse from years of yelling. Morgan nodded solemnly. __"Come with me." __He led Morgan past vast halls and to an outdoor courtyard. His strides were quick and insistent; Morgan could barely keep up, especially since he had a heavy suitcase to tug along. The man opened up the doors to a large, cafeteria style room._

"_You stay here." He told Morgan, and then blew on his whistle as loudly as he could over the hundreds of talkative boys. _

"_Listen up!" The man yelled. "We've got ourselves a new cadet!" _

"_Ooh," the boys catcalled. _

"_Silence!"_

"_Yes, sir!" _

"_Now," the man turned to Morgan. "What's your name?" _

"_Morgan Cor—Benson, sir." _

"_Morgan CorBenson?" _

"_No, no," Morgan shook his head. "Morgan Benson, sir. Benson." _

"_This here is Morgan Benson." The man said. "Morgan, I'm Colonel Blaire." _

"_What's he in for, sir?" A boy from the back yelled. Colonel Blaire threw him a sideways glance. Morgan took that as his cue. _

"_Well, my mom thought it would be best if I-"_

"_This here is Morgan Benson, and his _mommy_ don't love him no more." Colonel Blaire interrupted, and the boys roared with laughter._

* * *

><p>"Morgan," Dante rubbed his brother's arm. Morgan jolted awake, letting out a relieved breath to see Dante. The memories and dreams seemed to slip away for a moment, the images disappearing until he could see Dante clearly. He rubbed his eyes uncomfortably.<p>

"Hey, man, sorry to wake you. You hungry?" Dante looked a little sheepish for waking his brother. Morgan looked up to see Lulu in the kitchen. She caught his gaze and smiled. Somehow, in the time Morgan had been sleeping, the two had gotten up and dressed.

"Yeah," Morgan stifled a yawn. "Yeah, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I got up and went out for a run; I guess I must have fallen back asleep." Morgan rubbed the back of his head, getting up and stretching.

"Well, you're a pretty quiet guest." Dante said appreciatively. "Now, I gotta see how Lulu's doing; make sure she doesn't burn down the place."

"I heard that." Lulu retorted. Morgan smiled at his brother, who was rolling his eyes.

"Besides," she huffed. "I'm done. I hope you like chocolate chip pancakes, Morgan."

"I didn't know you could _not_ like them." Morgan trailed his brother to the kitchen table and took a seat. He thanked Lulu as she placed the pancakes onto his plate. When they were all seated, Morgan hesitated. He knew Dante was religious, but he wasn't sure if Lulu was. Maybe he prayed before eating.

Lulu began to reach for the syrup, and Dante spread some butter on his pancakes.

_Well, guess they didn't pray, then._

"Mm," Dante grinned wickedly at his wife. "That's some real Italian cooking, right there."

"Oh, yeah," she laughed. "Pancakes, Falconeri style."

"Hey, no one says Italians _don't_ eat pancakes."

"Do cadets eat pancakes?" Lulu asked Morgan sarcastically.

Morgan shrugged and flipped open the newspaper, scanning the articles. _General Hospital struggles to move on after loss of doctor days earlier, funeral held yesterday. _"How did Dr. Scorpio-Drake die?" He looked up. Lulu and Dante gave each other a look.

"She was in a lab, working on a protocol for…for one of her patients, and there was a gas leak. The entire lab exploded."

Morgan was shocked. He felt himself tensing up again. "How…who caused the explosion?"

"It was an accide-"

"Maxie." Lulu interrupted. "I'm sorry, Dante, I meant to tell you, but as soon as you got home Morgan called, and I couldn't find time. Mac and I went to Maxie's place to try to get her to the go to the funeral earlier that morning, but she wouldn't go. She said she had to work, but she was still grieving and definitely not in a state to work for demanding Kate. Anyway, at the church, we told Matt and Spinelli, and Spinelli went after her. She turned up in tears and started screaming."

"She killed Robin?" Dante asked in disbelief. "Maxie couldn't kill a fly."

"That's what she kept saying. She said that she was in the lab and she and Robin got in a disagreement. She turned to leave and grabbed her purse, and it knocked over the nosel to the gas, and that's what caused the explosion. She was hyperventilating, saying that we should all hate her."

"She said that?"

"Yeah, she went up to all of Robin's family and just kept telling them to hate her. Patrick couldn't even look at her, and she scared Emma so much Elizabeth had to take her outside."

Dante sighed. He hated that Emma had to lose her mother in such a tragic way, and that her mother's funeral had become Maxie's confession.

"So, did Maxie leave after that?" Morgan inquired.

"Uh, if by that you mean when Mac _carried_ her out, then yes." Lulu responded. "Mac, Spinelli, and Matt took her to the hospital."

"Wow," Dante shook his head. "I can't even imagine what Emma and Patrick are going through."

"I know, I know." Lulu agreed. "I talked to Patrick afterwards, and he was miserable, of course. He couldn't even get through his speech without crying, and then Maxie threw her story at him—if it's even true. He didn't understand why the funeral couldn't have just been about Robin. He said that was all he wanted."

"Well, yeah, it should have been." Dante picked up his empty plate, as well as Lulu's. Morgan had barely touched his; he was too entranced in the story. He looked down and hurriedly began to eat.

"Well, Morgan, you glad you're back?" Dante called from the kitchen sink, where he was washing the dishes. Morgan scoffed. He flipped a page in the newspaper. _Police still investigating hit-and-run case, the latter which resulted in the death of a father and his daughter, both from Pennsylvania. More on page A9. _

"What's this?" He asked Lulu, who reached over to see the article.

"That," she said, "is something to ask your brother."

"Dante?" Morgan gestured to his brother to come to him. "What's this about?" He waited for Dante to come by and take a look at the newspaper himself.

"It's a mess, that's what it is." Dante sighed. "And it involves you-know-who."


	4. Rent

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter four

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><p>Morgan mulled over what his brother told him as he walked to Kelly's. Sonny could have killed two people. A father and his precious daughter, and the worst part was the mother was still alive. Apparently, Michael and Dante had happened upon the scene, just as the driver ran away. The runner was Anthony Zacchara. And the shooter was Sonny Corinthos. Hit and run. That poor family got in the way of the mob, just like Michael had when he had been shot. Although, perhaps, that wasn't so true, Michael was born into the mob.<p>

Opening the door, Morgan delved in the familiar sounds and noises of Kelly's diner. People were having lunch and enjoying each other's company, while some took advantage of the Wi-Fi, something Morgan was hoping to take advantage of himself, if he could just rent the room.

Shawn Butler was stationed behind the counter, to Morgan's great surprise. The man seemed hard at work, making sure the counter was squeaky clean. Morgan adjusted his jacket and walked up to him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yeah?" Shawn looked up, and then seemed to recognize Morgan. "Morgan?" He asked, a smile beginning to form on his lips. "Nice to see you again, man, how are you?"

"Good," Morgan stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. "Yeah, pretty good. You the manager here, now?"

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" Shawn gestured that Morgan sit on one of the stools.

"I was wondering if you had any rooms open." Morgan started. "I just got back from school and am looking for a place to stay and-"

"And you don't want to live with your mother for another year. Yeah, I think we have a room with your name on it." Shawn smiled.

"Thank you," Morgan nodded gratefully.

"No problem, no problem. Would you like to see it? We can talk rent somewhere more private, if you'd like." Shawn suggested. Morgan nodded and let Shawn lead him upstairs. He wondered if Shawn was still Josslynn and Carly's bodyguard, for his sake he hoped he wasn't. His mother could be hard to handle at times.

"Right here," Shawn threw Morgan a pair of keys, which he swiftly caught. "Is your room. Check it out if you want, you can talk to me after."

"Thanks," Morgan waited until Shawn had gone downstairs again before slipping the key into the lock. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

His room was quaint. A large bed demanded attention, pushed towards the wall. Paces away was a door that led to a small bathroom. To the left of him was a vanity, a place for him to put his stuff. There was even a couch pushed into a corner.

Morgan sat down on the bed, it was comfortable enough. The whole room was kind of dark, he felt like he could fall asleep again. He needed to relax. Shaking his head, Morgan stood up again. It wasn't like him to sleep so much; he wasn't very big on the concept. Sleep got in the way of doing things, being productive. He didn't want to waste precious hours of his time that he could be doing something. Anything.

Poking his head into the bathroom, Morgan saw a shower, toilet, countertop and sink. It would do. It was a step up from Sherman-Johnston, that was for sure.

Looking down, Morgan saw that he was gripping the doorknob so tightly his hand was paling. He instantly let go, closing his eyes and releasing the tension in his shoulders. He needed to relax.

* * *

><p>One step, two steps closer. It was evening and Morgan stood outside his mother's house, playing with his willpower. Go in and see the woman that sent him away, or leave and never come back? He had to admit, being back home seemed to relax him. He wanted to run to his room, take all of his things and go back to his new room at Kelly's. Although, half the things he had as a kid he wouldn't care about anymore. Josslynn probably had her eyes on his toys, anyhow.<p>

So, perhaps he didn't go inside, what was the point of coming home? If he was just going to stand outside and wallow in self-pity, then Morgan should just leave. But, he didn't. He took another step closer.

The door opened. Out stepped Johnny Zacchara, his arm around Morgan's mom. Carly. Carly was laughing, playing with a button on John's shirt. He pushed back her hair and kissed her neck until she closed her eyes, letting out a sigh. She was clutching a towel around her otherwise naked self. Morgan thought he was going to be sick. Johnny said something before pulling back, placing a quick kiss on her lips, and walking away, towards his car, the one Morgan parked next to.

Morgan stood in the middle of his mother's front lawn, invisible in the darkening sky. He felt his fists clench together, his body tensing. No wonder John had wanted to talk to him this morning, he just wanted to know more about his mother before he jumped in bed with her. What would Jax think? Oh, wait, he wouldn't, Morgan's father had killed him.

Well, what did Morgan expect? This was exactly the sort of thing his mother would do. Sleep with the enemy. It wasn't like Morgan wanted Carly to sit and cry every day he was away at school; he realized she had a life, if not morals.

Morgan was always jealous of the kids he went to elementary school with. Most of the children had loving parents. Grounded, safe, caring parents. No guns, no polygamy, no jail or angry mobsters from other organizations threatening to kill each other. When he stayed over at a friend's house, he did it more to be around the family atmosphere then to be with his friend, as horrible as it sounded. He would have dinner with the family, they would talk about their day, tell jokes, share stories. Morgan would be entranced. And then, the next morning, two stiff, emotionless guards would pick him up and take him to his father's place, or his mother's home. He was never sure which one to call home.

Carly walked back inside her house, leaving the door slightly ajar. Morgan took that as his cue, moving up a second time. He made it to the door, walking in.

She hadn't redecorated any, but the pillows on the couch were strewn on the floor, and some toys littered the steps. Two glasses of wine lay discarded on the coffee table. Morgan could only guess what his fair mother and John Zacchara had been doing on that couch, the one he had sat in years ago to watch baseball with Jax. Not like Jax really knew much about baseball, being Australin, baseball wasn't really the top sport there. His favorite memory on that couch was when Dante—then known as Dominic—and himself tried to explain the concept of a foul ball to Jax. He was a good sport. 'Why don't I explain to you the concept of a goalie', Jax suggested instead. Morgan had beamed and Dante laughed.

Speaking of siblings, where was Joss, anyway? Had she been in her room while Johnny seduced his mother? Well, it was probably the other way around. In fact, Carly probably needed some information out of Johnny and thought the only way to get it was to go searching through his pants.

Morgan stepped forward, accidentally stepping on one of Josslynn's squeaky toys. Carly whipped around immediately, a sly smile on her lips. With one swift movement, she dropped the towel.


	5. Reunion

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter five

* * *

><p>"Mom, holy shit!" Morgan yelled, closing his eyes as fast as he could. Carly screamed, and Morgan could hear rustling as she picked up the towel again and wrapped it around herself.<p>

"Morgan Stone Corinthos," she breathed out. "Why the _hell_ didn't you call?"

"Benson." Morgan opened his eyes. He was tensing up again. "Morgan Benson, remember, Mom? You changed my name before you got rid of me."

"Morgan," Carly was still too flustered to speak. "You _know_ that's not what happened. And you _know_ I'm so happy you're home for Easter-"

"I'm out of school, Mom." Morgan shook his head. "I graduated."

"You _graduated?"_

"You didn't know?" Morgan asked, his voice coming out smaller than he wanted. "I sent you a letter, Mom, you never came."

"Oh, Morgan." Carly moved towards her son, arms outstretched. "Morgan, I am so sorry. The letter must have gotten lost in the mail, you know I-"

"Don't hug me, Mom." Morgan pushed her away. "Get dressed."

Carly was silent, searching her son's eyes. "All right." She whispered. "You stay here, promise?" Morgan didn't want to promise her anything, she always broke _her_ promises.

"Morgan."

"Okay," he whispered, looking down. She kissed his cheek and walked away.

* * *

><p>Morgan stared at the couch. Carly told him to sit there, to wait until she was dressed. He didn't want to sit there, for all he knew Johnny's DNA was all over the cushions. The thought made him slightly green. He opted for standing instead.<p>

He looked over at a pink crib next to the window. It was empty save for a raggedy, stuffed dog with its arms outstretched. Morgan picked it up, almost smiling. He remembered Rufus; he was Michael's favorite toy when he was a kid, before he was shot and his childhood was taken away from him. Morgan's childhood was stolen when he was sent to school. Kristina was beat up by Kiefer, and Dante was shot by his own father. None of them were innocent.

"Josslynn just loves Rufus, now." Carly walked down the step that led to the family room, now dressed. "I remember when you and Michael would fight over him." Morgan nodded, putting the stuffed animal down again.

"Where's Joss?" He asked of his baby sister, whom he desperately wanted to hold.

"She's asleep," Carly responded evenly. "I just got her to lie down."

"Asleep," Morgan repeated. "So the whole time you and Johnny were…doing what you were doing, Joss was in the other room?"

"You saw that," her smile faded.

"Mom, how could you do that? Josslynn can _hear,_ you know."

"It's not what you think-"

"Then tell me what happened." Morgan interrupted. "Please explain to me what I saw."

"I was in the shower when he came over-"

"How convenient."

"And we _kissed,_ that's it. I can't believe I have to tell my _son_ this."

"Yeah, I bet you made him all hot and bothered-"

"Don't talk to me like that." Carly snapped. "I'm your mother."

"Oh, you're my mother, now?" Morgan laughed. "You haven't been my mother since you sent me to Sherman-Johnston's."

"How dare you?" Carly stood up. "Morgan Stone-"

"Benson, not Corinthos." Morgan stood, as well. "You made sure of that. You know, that was the last good thing you did for me, Mom, changing my name. Although, you could have done it a lot sooner, but you were too busy planning Jax's death with Dad."

"You think I _wanted_ Jax to get shot down?" Carly exclaimed. "I _loved_ Jax, Morgan."

"Yeah, so much so that you were ready to sign divorce papers as soon as someone handed you a pen."

"Did you just come here to argue?"

"I was supposed to be Morgan _Jax!"_ Morgan cried. His body was so tight, he felt like stone. His muscles were quivering. "You loved Jax, Mom, _really?_ _I_ loved Jax."

"Morgan," Carly's voice was softer. "When I enrolled you in school, I did it for the best. I did it so you could get away from being the son of a mobster. You could be who you wanted to be. And from your letters, I thought you actually enjoyed school."

"Enjoyed school?" Morgan laughed harshly. "School was a nightmare, Mom. Who _enjoys_ military school? I was the only kid there who was sent by his mother. All the other guys were juvenile delinquents or army brats. I was known as the kid whose parents didn't love him. That's who I was, there, Mom. Not Morgan Benson, not Morgan Corinthos, the orphan."

"Your father-"

"Oh, yeah, Dad helped a whole lot. He would send me money, every so often. Maybe once a month. At first, the guys thought I was some rich, spoiled kid, but they found out soon enough."

"Found out what?" Carly asked, voice inked with suspicion.

"Who Sonny Corinthos really was, Mom, that's what. Didn't you know I could never really get rid of Dad? He's a _part_ of me, Mom; a couple of legal papers will do nothing to stop him. And maybe I don't want him to, Dad actually bothered to keep in contact, if only with money."

"Morgan, you wrote me letters, you called frequently, I never felt like I had to contact you. You always beat me to it." Carly stepped forward, gesturing for her son to sit on the couch. Morgan stiffly slid into the chair behind him. Carly sat down as close as she could, perched on the edge of the loveseat. "I was always one phone call away."

Morgan looked away, opening and closing his fists. Carly looked at her son. He had been on edge the whole night, he looked tired and hard, a shell of what he once was. She wanted him to stay the night, she wanted to make him breakfast, even though she wasn't much of a cook. She wanted to watch him play with Joss, to talk to Michael, to give her some reassurance that he was really okay.

"Why didn't you tell me about Dr. Scorpio-Drake?" Morgan finally looked up, his voice softer. "Why didn't you tell me she died?"

"It was so sudden," Carly was surprised. "I…I didn't think it mattered to you."

"Why would I not care?"

"Well, Morgan, you didn't really know her, she wasn't even your doctor."

"Still," Morgan sighed. "You could have told me." He didn't know why he was telling her about that, but he was really just trying to make excuses for times where she could have called him at school, reminded him a little of what was waiting for him at home.

"A lot has happened since you left, Morgan." Carly sighed. "Too much."

"Shawn's not working here anymore."

"No," Carly answered quickly. "No, he found a new job. And the threat is gone, so he wasn't...needed."

"You mean Franco."

"Well, yes, he's what I meant. I don't really like to talk about him." Carly looked down.

"Does Shawn work for Jason?"

"No, Morgan, he works at Kelly's." Carly frowned. "Why are you so interested in Shawn?"

"I don't know, Mom, I think he's a good guy." Morgan shrugged. "I thought you two could, I don't know, be together."

"Shawn and I were never 'together.'" Carly answered, clearing her throat. "What we had is in the past, now. I've moved on."

"To Johnny Zacchara?"

"We're not bringing this up again, Morgan. Now, you're welcome to stay the night. Actually, I want you to. Please, stay."

"I'll…I'll think about it," Morgan whispered. Carly nodded, kissing the top of his head before rising.

"I love you, Morgan." She touched his cheek.

"Yeah, Mom." Morgan whispered. "I know you do."

"Goodnight." Carly walked past him and to her room. Morgan heard the door shut behind her. Instantly, he released his clenched muscles. He sighed and put his head in his hands. She killed him. How many times would he have to look at her until he stopped feeling this resentment? She was his _mother;_ he wasn't supposed to feel so angry at her. He remembered how Dante acted around his mother. He wished that he and Carly were like that. 'Ma' this and 'Ma' that, and telling each other things and saying 'I love you' whenever they got the chance. Maybe it came from their upbringing; it was just Dante and Olivia. No Sonny Corinthos, Jasper Jacks, or Carly Benson.

Now that he thought about it, Dante's life revolved around Sonny. Even when he was a kid and didn't know who his father was, Sonny controlled his life. Because he wasn't there, because he didn't know, Dante had no father. He had to live with that. He had to explain to all his friends why Olivia was the only adult in the house, he had to have Olivia at all of his sporting events, and although Olivia was always eager to go, all of his other teammates brought their fathers, something Dante couldn't do.

So, Carly was wrong. Morgan could never get rid of Sonny Corinthos, no matter how hard he tried.

He headed towards his sister's room. Maybe he would stay the night, after all. Josslynn was sleeping soundly in her crib. She had gotten so big. Morgan actually smiled for the first time in a while. He rubbed her little back, her pajamas soft as silk, her skin even more delicate, if not a little pudgy. Her fair, blonde hair had grown out, and he saw through her parted lips quaint, white, baby teeth. He bent down and pushed some of her hair aside, kissing her on the temple. He didn't want to wake her.

Quietly, Morgan turned back around and slipped out the door.


	6. Vinny

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter six

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, here's loverboy!" Paul, a particularly tall cadet wrapped an arm around Morgan, who was trying to walk back to his lonely cot. Boys were leaning off their bunks to listen to Paul, the oldest cadet and the toughest. <em>

"_I thought nobody loved me." Morgan grumbled, pushing Paul's arm off of him. He didn't want to be bothered, today. He was sick and tired of all of the other cadets messing with him, teasing him. They all thought he was the rich, spoiled brat who was banished from his mansion. Morgan so wished he could prove them wrong. _

"_Eh, well, maybe Barry Bonds over here." Paul gestured towards a cadet in the back, trying to keep up with the others. He seemed younger than everyone else. He watched as the other boys pushed Morgan around, a slight frown on his face._

"_Who's that?" Morgan asked. _

"_Dunno." Paul shrugged, making sure he was one step ahead of Morgan. "Apparently he enjoys smuggling roids." _

"_Hey, look everyone!" Paul cried, his loud, authoritative voice carrying over the crowds of boys. "Rafael Palmeiro is joining us here, so if anyone wants to take on my pushup challenge, just contact him. Maybe, he'll beef you up enough to come close to beating my record." _

"_Record?" Morgan scoffed. _

"_Yeah, Loverboy." Paul pushed him forward roughly. "But don't worry; you're too weak to go past thirty. Besides, I'm sure you've never had to lift a finger to do anything back in your mansion, huh? Boo hoo, Loverboy's too much for his parents to handle and has a girl name."_

_The other boys walked past Morgan, leaving him alone, finally. He took a seat on his bed, letting out a long breath. He was mad. First, they pick on him, steal his things, push him around, and now, they move on to some poor kid? They probably didn't even know his name. _

_Morgan glanced behind him. The boy had stayed behind, sitting on the ground, his head in his hands. Morgan got up, moving towards the kid. He didn't say a word, but sat down next to him. For a while he listen to the kid's loud breaths, wishing he had a cell phone, something to call his family. He never got to speak to his family anymore. _

"_What's your name?" He asked. _

"_Vinny." The boy looked up, sniffing._

"_Morgan," Morgan held out his hand. The boy shook it gingerly, clearing his throat and sitting up. _

"_How old are you?" Vinny asked. _

"_Fifteen. How old are you?" _

"_Thirteen." _

"_Are you old enough to be here?" Morgan laughed. "I've been here a couple years; I always thought I was the youngest." _

_Vinny shrugged. "I didn't have a choice." _

"_Yeah," Morgan scoffed. "None of us did." They were a silent again, for a little while. "So, what's your story?" Morgan asked cautiously. _

"_You heard it, I smuggled drugs." Vinny muttered. _

"_Not sure I believe you." Morgan admitted. "You don't look like the type." _

"_Well, I did, so here I am, just like you." Vinny snapped, getting up. _

"_Wait, Vinny, I was just—I didn't mean it." Morgan grabbed his arm, pulling him back around. "I won't judge, man, it was just a question." Vinny stared at him hesitantly. He seemed to be weighing his options. It was a while before he opened his mouth. _

"_Do you like baseball?"_

* * *

><p>Michael Corinthos the third opened the door to Kelly's. It couldn't have been later than 7:30 in the morning, but his mother had called him even earlier to inform him that Morgan had returned. And from Carly's voice, something wasn't right. He saw a few eager workers getting coffee, Shawn adjusting some pies in the display case, and a young guy slumped over on a stool. He was sweating, his feet twitching in his tennis shoes. He had short, military-cut hair, and broad shoulders under a white tee. Something struck Michael as familiar about this guy; he could see he was looking at something.<p>

"Excuse me?" Michael cleared his throat. "Sir?" The young man jumped, as if surprised. He turned around and Michael saw, to his shock, that the man in front of him was his little brother, Morgan.

"Morgan?" Michael whispered.

"Michael," Morgan's eyes were wide.

"Oh my gosh," Michael wrapped his arms around his brother, and the two hugged. He could feel Morgan instantly relax, pressing his face in Michael's shoulder.

"Man," Michael pulled back, patting his brother on the back to reassure himself that this wasn't a dream. "I'm still taller, that's good."

"For now," Morgan laughed. "I may still have a growth spurt left in me."

"Yeah, sure, keep dreaming." Michael shook his head. "No, man, when did you get here? Mom told me you were staying here, but I had to see for myself."

"I graduated." Morgan sat back down. He was wiped out from his run, and half-starved. "And I decided to come back."

Michael took a seat next to him. He grabbed a discarded menu and flipped through it randomly. His stomach was growling. A few waitresses were eyeing them appreciatively, but the two brothers didn't notice, they were too busy trying to catch up.

"What have you been doing while I was gone?" Morgan asked, sipping his orange juice.

"Uh," Michael shrugged. "Nothing really. Getting into trouble like always."

"You and Abby still together?"

"No." Michael was suddenly very interested in the omelets page. He could get one with bacon, green peppers, his choice of cheese…

"Why not? I thought you guys were pretty serious."

"We were." Michael sighed. "But she died, so I guess that changed things."

Morgan stared at his brother, his eyebrows slowly rising. He shook his head. "If you're joking, man…"

"_Joking?"_ Michael repeated a little loudly. He lowered his voice. "I wouldn't joke about that, Morgan, and you know it. Abby was in a…a car accident."

"Michael-"

"And I couldn't…I couldn't save her, Morgan, so I failed. That's what I did while you were gone, Morgan. I buried my girlfriend. I packed away her things, I met her family for the first time, I said goodbye."

"I was gone four years." Morgan said quietly. "Other things happened."

"Yeah, nothing important." Michael grumbled.

"Nothing?" Morgan retorted. "Then why do I keep reading about Dad in the papers, what has he done now?"

Michael was silent for a minute, but after a while, sighed. "I don't know what Dad did. He may not even be the one that did it, or so he claims. Someone, whoever it was, shot out Anthony Zacchara's tires while he was driving, and he crashed into another car, killing a father and his little girl."

"What?" Morgan was shocked.

"Yeah, and the worst part is, the mother—Starr Manning—is still alive, and her family is out to get Dad."


	7. Doctors

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter seven

* * *

><p>After Michael left, Morgan ordered his breakfast. He wanted his brother to stay and have breakfast with him, but Michael became quiet after Morgan brought up Abby. He said something about work and was off. Morgan wondered if Michael still had a job at the coffee warehouse, taking inventory, or had moved on to, well, greener pastures.<p>

Shawn Butler had watched the entire encounter. Not that he had simply stood there and openly stared at the two, but he had seen out of the corner of his eye has he cleaned. Once Michael had shuffled out, Morgan had sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small card of some sort, it was scuffed up and torn at the top. Morgan looked at it, and Shawn could see his muscles begin to flex and tense. Shawn decided he should find out a bit more about his new neighbor (wasn't sure what word to use there).

"Hey, Morgan." Shawn moved over to where the young man was sitting, and picked up his plate. Instantly, Morgan stuffed the card he was looking at into his pocket.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

"Can I get you anything?" Shawn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Oh, uh, no." Morgan cleared his throat. "I was just leaving."

"Well, it's a nice day." Shawn said just as evenly.

"Really?" Morgan looked out the window. "It was gloomy this morning." He mentally smacked himself. Of course, he was talking about the weather.

"Right," Shawn poured himself a cup of coffee. "Have fun, then."

"Okay," Morgan headed towards the door. At the last minute, he turned around.

"Do you know where I can find a gym?"

Morgan lay down on the first machine he saw, placing his hands on the bars. Taking a deep breath, he pushed up. He added more weight and tried again. He added more weight. No, he knew this wasn't good, but he wanted to feel the pain, he wanted to feel something.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, look guys, it's Manny Ramirez!" The cadets roared in laughter at the sight of Vinny. He bowed his head, trying not to look at Paul, who was quickly advancing on him. The mess hall was only so large. He grabbed a tray, shakily taking his silverware. Except a knife, the academy didn't trust their cadets with knives. <em>

"_Listen, Manny, I've been thinking." Paul swiped his tray away, throwing it on the ground. "I'm not big enough. Especially since Frankie over there thinks he can do more pull ups than me. Think you can get me some of the good stuff?" _

"_Sorry," Vinny muttered, walking past him. _

"_You'll be sorry if you don't tell me where I can find some beer. You're sneaky, and we all know you know things. You're a smart kid, Manny; just get us what we want." _

"_I'm not going to do that." Vinny said louder, reaching for some mashed potatoes. _

"_Like hell you won't." Paul growled grabbing him by the front of his shirt and punching him across the face. _

"_Hey!" Morgan came like an oncoming storm, knocking Paul down. "Don't mess with him." _

"_Oh, hey guys!" Paul called to his friends from the ground. "Loverboy's got a crush!" _

"_You son of a bitch," Morgan punched Paul, to the cadets great surprise. "Stay away from Vinny." _

"_Paulie, it's the Colonel!" Frank yelled. All the cadets hurried to get in order, and act like they were just eating. Paul pushed Morgan off of him and headed back to his table. _

_Morgan lay on the ground, breathing heavily. He didn't know what came over him, but he didn't like it. He was furious with Paul for being so arrogant, with himself for being so weak, and with Vinny, for not standing up for himself. _

"_Morgan," Vinny helped him up. "You didn't have to do that." _

"_Well, you didn't do anything." Morgan snapped. _

"_I-"_

"_Yeah, I know. Sorry, I didn't mean to yell." Morgan sighed. "Let's go." _

_Vinny turned to leave, but something on the ground caught his eye. He picked it up._

* * *

><p>"You dropped this." Morgan was pulled out of his thoughts when someone tapped his shoulder. Morgan had been standing in front of his locker, trying to remember his lock. He turned to see a man, holding his lucky card.<p>

"Thanks," Morgan said gratefully, slipping the card back into his pocket.

"That card looks pretty beat up," the man continued in what Morgan assumed was an Australian accent, grabbing his bag. "Is it anything special?"

"Yeah," Morgan said distractedly, tugging on his lock again. He could see his cell phone vibrating within. _Kristina_, his phone declared. She was calling him.

"Have you considered kicking it?" The man put in helpfully, he seemed content with himself, whereas Morgan was on edge, sweating, and stiff. Morgan scoffed, the idea seemed ridiculous, but tried anyway. It opened instantly.

"You're good," he mused.

"No, not really." The man shook his head. "I've just had that locker before."

Morgan laughed. "Morgan," he held out his hand.

"Ewen," the man responded, shaking Morgan's hand firmly. "The card?"

"The card? Oh, yeah, the card." Morgan looked down at it. "It looked much better before, when I got it, it had its own little case and everything."

"Before?"

"Before I went to school. Military school, actually. My siblings all chipped in to get me this baseball card of Reggie Jackson, my favorite player. It's signed by him too, and authentic. I've kept it on hand ever since."

"Baseball," Ewen took in a hesitant breath. "I can't say I'm all that familiar with the game."

"It's the Ameri—yeah, I guess not." Morgan laughed. "You like soccer, then?"

"Soccer, yeah, we call it football. Football and rugby, that's what I follow."

"Cool," Morgan silenced his phone, putting his things into his gym bag and tying the strings, slipping it over his shoulders. "Yeah, I've had this card forever. It was stolen once, at school," his voice became quieter, then. "But a friend got it back for me."

"And where is your friend, now?" Ewen asked, his voice hinting concern. Morgan looked up, frowning. He didn't know why this Ewen guy cared so much.

"He's gone," he whispered.

"Gone." Ewen repeated.

"Yeah." Morgan said stiffly, he felt himself tensing up again. "See you around."

"Wait, Morgan." Ewen stopped him. "I couldn't help but notice-"

"What's with all the questions, man?" Morgan asked incredulously. "I just came here to work out."

"I don't mean to intrude." Ewen answered evenly. "But you seemed very angry."

"What, worried I'll hurt myself?"

"I worried that you already have."

Morgan was silent, jaw set tight. He hoped, that if he clenched his teeth together tight enough, that he would be able to just explode, disappear until Ewen went away. Ewen, his mother, and everyone else pestering him.

"What, are you some kind of shrink or something?" Morgan asked angrily. "'Cause if you are, I'm not interested."

"Sometimes, people just need someone to talk to, to let someone know how-"

"You _are!_ You are a shrink!" Morgan threw up his hands. "Does that make you Dr. Ewen?"

"Dr. Ewen Keenan." Ewen responded. "I'm new here in Port Charles-"

"Well, I'm returning, and everything is different, so we're in the same boat."

"From military school-"

"Man, you shrinks remember everything, don't you?"

"-which is a very stressful environment in which to receive an education-"

"Oh, shut up!" Morgan yelled. "You don't know how tough it was, you weren't there! You don't know what I've been through." He was breathing heavily. His jaw was beginning to hurt. Slowly, he realized that he and Ewen had walked to the parking lot, and were standing by what Morgan assumed was Ewen's car.

"No, but I can guess." Ewen said softly.

"You wouldn't guess in a million years." Morgan spit.

"I'm guessing something happened at school that was never supposed to happen."

"You're going to have to be more specific, doc."

"Something horrible and unexplainable happened, and you feel responsible."


	8. Propositions

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter eight

* * *

><p><em>Vinny walked down the long hallway, holding onto an old Reggie Jackson baseball card that had slipped from Morgan's pocket during the fight. He was going to return it; obviously, it was the least he could do to repay his friend. Morgan, however, was taking a test, and Vinny didn't want to bother him. He rounded the corner to the cots.<em>

_Frank and Paul were there, running in place as fast as they could. Of course, they were racing each other; Paul couldn't get over the thrill of competition. Vinny watched from behind, wishing he was as tall and athletic as the other cadets were. _

"_Hey, Frankie, look at this." Paul stopped suddenly, spotting their short classmate. "Looks like A-Rod wants to join in on the fun." _

"_C'mon over, Rodriguez," Frank caught on to Paul's game. "We can have the push-up contest, now." _

"_I-I'm not doing anything." Vinny stuttered, trying to reach Morgan's bed. He was going to simply place the card down, but Frank wanted none of that. He grabbed Vinny and lifted him up before throwing him on the ground. _

"_What's this?" Paul laughed, picking up the card. "Looks pretty special." _

"_Leave that alone, it's not mine!" Vinny protested. That only interested Paul further. _

"_Really? Then what are you doing with it?" _

"_I…I was trying to return it." _

"_Return it, eh? Say, we'll do that for you. If you beat Frankie or I in a push-up contest, we'll give you the card. If not, because it's such a nice card, it's ours." _

"_Who do you want to race? Paulie or myself?" Frank demanded. "We both do the same." _

"_I thought I beat you, Frankie." Paul glanced at his brother disdainfully. _

"_I had the flu the last time we raced, Paulie." _

"_That don't mean nothin'." Paul got down on the floor next to Vinny. "I'll race this squirt. First person to reach two hundred." _

"_Nah, one hundred fifty in two minutes." _

"_One minute." Paul looked up at his brother with a grin. _

"_Four minutes." Vinny whispered. _

"_All right, we'll settle. Three minutes, two hundred fifty." _

"_That's impossible!" _

"_Three minutes, one hundred fifty." Frank suggested. _

"_You're making this too easy." Paul laughed. _

"_Then let me do it." Frank grumbled, but his older sibling ignored him. _

"_Which are you going to take, huh? I don't have all day, you know. I'm a very popular person."_

"_I'll do it." Morgan stepped out from the shadows. "I'll challenge you." _

"_I'm guessing this is your card, eh, Loverboy?" Paul laughed, slipping it into his pocket. "All right, man, you're on."_

* * *

><p>Morgan looked down at his phone. <em>Two missed calls: Kristina Davis. <em>He didn't want to call her back. It would just be a lot of explaining. Why he was back in Port Charles, why he didn't tell anyone, all of that stuff. He went to his contacts and filed through them. He had many, most of whom he didn't contact.

_Vinny Triste. Last contacted: six days ago. _

Morgan sighed, clicking on the message. He didn't want to remember, but he wouldn't make himself forget.

_Morgan. I know you won't understand what I have to do, but I want you to know that-_

"Hey, you that kid from military school?" Morgan was pulled out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a young, African-American kid, who sat next to him on a stool at Kelly's.

"Uh, yeah." He turned his phone off, and, along with his card, slipped it into his pocket. "That would be me."

"Cool, cool." The kid nodded. "I was going to go to military school."

"Oh, yeah? What for?" Morgan asked, rubbing his sleepless eyes.

"I was a pretty messed up kid." He laughed. "My mom threatened to send me away, but, instead, I told her to send me to Shawn."

"You're living with Shawn?"

"Yeah, and he hates it." The kid laughed. "I'm T.J."

"Morgan." Morgan nodded his greeting. "Are you and Shawn related?"

"No," T.J. shook his head. "But, Shawn owes me something."

"What?"

T.J. was silent, shaking his head with a smile. "Something big." He simply said. "He owes me my father's life."

"T.J.?" An unmistakably familiar voice caught the attention of both T.J. and Morgan, who both turned around.

"Who are you talking to?" Molly Lansing asked, a pile of books in her hand.

"Molly?" Morgan stood up.

"Whoa, hold up, you guys know each other?" T.J. asked warily.

"Morgan!" Molly all but screamed, running up to hug her cousin. Morgan swept her off the ground in his strong embrace.

"I can't believe you're actually here!" Molly exclaimed, pulling back. He set her down with a grin. "Michael told me you were here, but I didn't believe him and-" She hugged him again. Morgan laughed, rubbing her back.

"I'm here, Molly, I'm out of school." He assured her.

"T.J., do you know Morgan?" Molly asked, setting down her books next to him. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her laptop, setting it in front of T.J.

"Nope." T.J. answered. "Just met the guy."

"We're cousins," Morgan explained.

"I'm helping T.J. study." Molly explained eagerly. "Well, technically I'm not allowed to see T.J. anymore, but I still bring over his books and stuff."

"Does your mom know you're here?"

"Does _your_ mom know _you're_ here?" Molly shot back, and then sighed. "No, but I'm only doing this to help T.J."

"I don't need help," T.J. grumbled, but Morgan could tell he was grateful for the assistance.

"Why can't you help T.J. anymore?" Morgan asked.

"Well, something happened..." Molly started. "And Mom got really mad."

"Like what?" Morgan asked cautiously. He glanced at T.J., who looked incredibly interested in plugging in his headphones to Molly's laptop. He pulled up an audio book and began to listen.

"It's such a long story." Molly sighed, sitting next to her friend and cousin. "But, Michael helped me, so I'm okay, now."

"Were you hurt?" Morgan glanced at T.J. again, who was now holding the ear buds closer to his ear.

"Well…not exactly."

"Molly-"

"Morgan, you can't yell at and T.J. or I, because Mom and Shawn already did." Molly put her foot down on the subject.

"I just want you to be safe," Morgan said softly. Molly's face softened, and she fell into her cousin's embrace once again. Morgan kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Sixty push-ups in and Morgan was beginning to feel tired. Sixty, what a small number. Paul and Frank flanked his sides, easily in the triple-digits. Morgan grunted and tried to pull through the pain, but he was slowly losing his strength. He stared at his card that Paul had put in front of him, as if to taunt Morgan on what he couldn't have. <em>

"_Two hundred," Paul grunted, only a moment before Frank, who cursed accordingly. Paul lay on the ground for a moment, breathing heavily. Morgan copied him in defeat. He had lost. The card was theirs. However, at the present time, Morgan was closer to it than the boys. Quickly, he made a grab for it. _

"_Oh, no you don't." Paul kicked him in the stomach, sending Morgan back to the ground in a contorted heap. "I won this card fair and square. But, don't worry. If you really want it, you can have it. You just have to beat me." The two boys left, laughing to themselves. _

"_Morgan," Vinny knelt beside his friend and helped him up. "Morgan, I'm so sorry." _

"_No, no, I should have been able to beat them." Morgan sighed, getting up slowly. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and letting out a few ragged breaths. "We'll get 'em next time." _

"_Yeah, if they don't get me first." Vinny grumbled. _

"_Oh, they'll stop bothering you eventually." _

"_Doubt it," Vinny scoffed, but Morgan could see he was miserable. _

"_Sure they will," he patted the younger kid's back. "They'll run out of names to call you, and then they won't know what to do." _


	9. Lunch

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter nine

* * *

><p>"Whoa, Krissy, talk slower. Yeah, yeah, Morgan's back. I don't know, he just sort of showed up." Lulu listened to her husband's amused tone as he tried to talk his sister down over the phone. She quietly padded out of the bathroom, dressed for work and headed towards the kitchen.<p>

"No, he said he graduated. From school, where else? I don't know, Kristina, I haven't talked to him in a few days. _Yes,_ I'm very busy." He laughed, shaking his head. "I'll let him know you called. Okay, all _right,_ Krissy. Yeah. Be safe. Yeah. Bye." Sighing, Dante turned off his phone. He looked at his wife and laughed.

"She gets crazier every day." He swiftly caught the apple Lulu threw in his direction and nodded his thanks.

"Aw, you love her." Lulu laughed, biting into her own fruit. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Dante grabbed his coat and keys, opening the door for his wife.

"Oh, thank you." Lulu placed a quick kiss on his lips. Instantly, he pulled her closer, deepening their embrace.

"Thank _you."_

* * *

><p>"Why, Morgan Benson, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd walk into this hotel." Olivia Falconeri gave her boss's son a sly smile. "Welcome back."<p>

"Thanks, Ms. Falconeri." He nodded his thanks, looking around the vast Metrocourt. He had forgotten how large it was.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Benson?"

"Is my mother here?"

"Actually, honey, she's in a meeting right now, but I can page her."

"Yeah, okay." Morgan shrugged. "It's not really important, I was just wondering if she wanted to have lunch."

Olivia's features softened. "That's so sweet, you're a good boy. Mothers like that."

"I hope she will."

"Any reason you're taking her to lunch?" Olivia bent over the hotel phone, trying to see if she could catch Carly.

_Because Dante takes you to lunch. _

_Because I yelled at her. _

_Because I miss what we had. _

"Not really." Morgan shrugged. "Just want to catch up."

"Where are you taking her?"

"Actually," Morgan looked sheepish. "I was just going to eat here with her."

Olivia rolled her eyes, amused. "Yeah, you're just like my Dante." She laughed. "Why don't you find a table and I'll try to speed up the meeting?"

"Thanks,"

* * *

><p>"<em>So, what <em>is_ your story?"_

"_My story?" Vinny looked up at Morgan, who handed him a towel. The two had been practicing their push-ups. They were determined to get that baseball card back. Vinny rubbed his face on the soft towel. _

"_You know, the steroids?" _

"_Oh." Vinny sighed, setting down the towel. "It's a long story." _

"_Let's take a break, then. We've got time." Morgan shrugged. "Unless you want to tell me while lifting weights." _

"_No," Vinny smiled. "All right, I'll tell you."_

* * *

><p>Morgan stared down at his Reggie Jackson card. His family had done so much to purchase it, and he had done so much to win it back. He tried many times to leave it behind, but he would get nervous, he had to have it by his side. Looking at it, however, brought back memories he wished he could forget.<p>

"Morgan," Carly appeared, dressed sharply as always, and gave her son a kiss on the forehead. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah," Morgan nodded handed his mother a menu. "How has your day been?"

"Well," she shook her head. "A lot of has been going on, lately. With Jason and-"

"What's wrong with Jason?"

And so, Carly explained what had happened at the hospital, with the surgery and Robin's death. She had wanted to take out some details, but she found herself simply saying everything. She loved talking to her son; she loved how mature he had become. He took the news in stride, nodding and comprehending. He was such a smart boy.

"So, when did Jason find out about what had happened to Ro—Dr. Scorpio-Drake?" Morgan asked, thanking the waiter as his food was set down.

"Uh, I did." Carly spread her napkin on her lap.

"But I thought you said you were-"

"I snuck in."

Morgan stared at her blankly.

_"What?"_ Carly said defensively. "He's my best friend!"

"Okay," Morgan looked down, laughing. "Wow, Mom. Wow. You _would_ do that."

"Yes, I would." Carly nodded firmly. "And I did. Now he knows, and everything is better."

"For you, maybe." Morgan muttered.

"Listen, mister, I've already heard this from your father, so I don't need another lecture from my son." She pointed at him, eyebrows raised. The word 'father' had sent a chill down Morgan's back.

"Does he know I'm here?" Morgan asked cautiously. "Did you tell Dad?"

"Morgan, you're an adult, now. I don't have to keep Sonny updated on your whereabouts."

"Thank you," Morgan sat back, sighing in relief.

"Do you not want to see Sonny?"

"I thought _you_ didn't want me to see Dad." Morgan retorted, steering the impending question away from him.

"Like I said, you're an adult, now. I let Michael see Sonny, as much as I'd rather him not to." Carly shrugged. "Have you talked to Michael, yet?"

"Yeah," Morgan said quietly. "He told me about Abby."

"He did?" Carly asked. "I thought I would have to."

"Was it really an accident, Mom?" Morgan asked hesitantly. "Or was her death mob-related?"

"I don't know, honey." Carly said sadly. "She was by herself during the accident, not even Michael knows. We just have to go by the police reports."

"Was there a funeral?"

"Yes, back where she grew up. Michael went alone." Carly nodded. "He wanted to be alone."

"Was there a funeral for Jax?" Morgan looked up.

"What?" Carly frowned. "Morgan, why-"

"I just…I want to know that he was given a proper burial." Morgan felt his throat tightening, his fists clenching.

"Oh, Morgan." Carly sighed, reaching for her son.

"They never found his body, did they?" Morgan's voice cracked. "This was just another mob death."

"Morgan, Jax loved you very much." Carly assured him.

"I wish he could have adopted me." Morgan finally admitted, angrily wiping tears from his eyes. "I wish he was still here."

"Morgan," Carly started. "There's something I haven't told you."

Morgan's phone rang. _Kristina. _This was the third time she had called in two days.

"Um," he sniffed and brushed a stray tear away. "I better take this, it's Krissy. I haven't talked to her since I returned."

"But-"

"I'll see you later, Mom."

* * *

><p>"<em>My brother was going to try out for the football team, but the coaches told him he was too skinny to be on a high school team. He was so desperate to get on the team he started taking steroids. I was the middle man, only twelve years old. It worked for a while, and my brother made the team. Then, I got caught." <em>

"_And you were sent here?" Morgan asked. _

"_Yeah," Vinny nodded."My bother would have killed me. I'm not exaggerating, either." He sighed. "Why are you here?" _

_Morgan scoffed. His reason for coming was not nearly as bad as Vinny's story. "Daddy issues." He muttered. "Big time."_


	10. Collapse

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter ten

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you ever think about home?" <em>

_Vinny poked his head up at Morgan's question. "Every day," he whispered. _

"_Do you want to go back?" _

"_I want to go back," Vinny sighed. "But my family doesn't want me back." _

"_C'mon, man, you're too hard on yourself." Morgan patted his friend's back. "I bet you've got tons of friends back home."_

"_No," Vinny shook his head. "I don't." He lay down on the ground, then, placing his palms on the cool ground. "Let's get back to work." He began to exercise._

* * *

><p>Morgan talked to Kristina for an hour. He had time to drive back to Kelly's from the Metrocourt, go to his room, take off his shoes, and get the shower water going. It was two in the afternoon, and he felt like taking a shower.<p>

Kristina had known something was wrong with Morgan as soon as she answered the phone, she could probably detect that he had been, dare he say it, _crying._ In front of his mother, no less. He knew he had left hurriedly, but he didn't want to be seen like that, not by Carly or anybody. He had listened to Vinny cry himself silly for years, and he wasn't going to be like Vinny.

How long had it been since he graduated? Three or four days? It had been six or seven days since he saw Vinny last, then.

"…I told her she was crazy and that she was not going _anywhere_ near my roommate's boyfriend. I mean, what kind of roomie would I be if I couldn't even look out for her, right? _Right?_ Morgan?" Kristina's voice turned from annoyance to concern at the silence of her brother.

"Yeah, uh, I gotta go, Krissy."

"Oh, yeah, you're probably super busy. Well, so am I, keeping my roommate in a relationship and all. I'll talk to you later." Kristina quickly said her goodbyes and hung up. Morgan sighed, letting his phone fall on his mattress soundlessly. Just thinking about Vinny made him want to start crying again—something he wasn't planning on doing.

He walked into the small bathroom, running his hand through the water spewing from the showerhead. If it got any warmer he was going to burn himself, but maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe, then, he would feel what Jax felt as his plane crashed and exploded in the ocean. His own father was responsible for the death of the person who was Morgan's real father in every way that mattered. His love for Sonny and his love for Jax often conflicted him in his childhood. He wished he could have spent more time with Jax. He stepped in.

This wasn't good for him, the heat, and all the thoughts swarming in his head. His head seemed to be causing him a lot of trouble ever since he returned to Port Charles. If he wasn't thinking about Jax's death, he was thinking about the burden military school had been to him, or what T.J. had said about Shawn owing him his father's life, about Robin and her poor, grieving, family, about Michael's sorrow and Abby's family, about Vinny—no. He was _not_ going to think about Vinny.

He blindly reached for a bar of soap and began to lather it on his body. His hands were shaking, but he dug his fingernails into the slippery object so that it wouldn't fall.

"_So, Loverboy and Sammy Sosa decided to come back, huh?" _

The soap slid over his leg, he watched dully as the beads of water washed away the remnants of the morning.

"_Well, you certainly look bigger. I'm sure Sosa gave you all the steroids you needed, right?" _

The bar ran up an arm, sending the brunette hairs askew. He went over a strong shoulder, quivering at the memories of old.

"_All right, Loveryboy, let's go. First to reach two hundred pushups gets the card." _

The soap dropped. He bent down to pick it up, his knees hitting the wet tile harder than he expected. He couldn't get back up.

"_Frankie, why don't you show little Vinny over here what it's like to be like us." _

Morgan's head had begun to hurt terribly. He didn't want to think about school, he had to stop thinking about school.

"_Morgan! Morgan, help! Please, stop hurting me!" _

Morgan willed himself to move. He begged with himself to get up, to get his shampoo, to wash his hair and turn off the water, dangerously hot and demanding. He was like a fault line, threatening to split at any moment. The result: an earthquake.

"_How the hell did he—he beat you, Paulie! That son of a bitch actually _beat _you! _Ha!_ Well, I'll show him. You can take the kid." _

Tears mixed with water. Morgan realized he was crying. Angrily, he stood, knocking down the bottles of shampoo and soap and pounding his fists against the wall. He _told_ himself he wasn't going to cry anymore. He wasn't supposed to be like this.

"_You knocked him out, you knocked him out, Frankie! Ha! Didn't know you had that in you, you son of a bitch! I thought I had the kid? Hey, Loverboy, you better help your friend out, huh?" _

Smack. Morgan punched the wall. Blood mixed with water and tears.

"_Ah, shit, Paulie, it's the Colonel! Here, give Loverboy the card and let's get out of here." _

Morgan couldn't stop trembling, his knuckles were bloody, his eyes red. He grabbed hold of the pipe and turned off the water. He stumbled out of the shower and got dressed as quickly as he could, breathing heavily and choking back unwanted, unnecessary tears. Water dripped from his sopping hair and blood from his hand.

With one last ounce of effort, Morgan picked up his phone and called the first number that came to mind, the only one he trusted.

"General Hospital, how can I help you?"

"I need to speak to Dr. Ewen Keenan." His voice came out hoarse, rough and cracked. Just hearing his sorry voice made him want to completely break down. He swallowed hard, but couldn't get rid of the lump in his throat.

"One moment please." A cheery voice responded on the other end.

Morgan collapsed.


	11. Stitches

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter eleven

* * *

><p>"Damn it," Dr. Ewen Keenan held his phone up to his ear again. Nothing. There was nothing on the other end. Morgan wouldn't just call him to say hello. He had a horrible feeling in his gut that something was wrong. He called Morgan's cell again, but to no prevail. "C'mon, Morgan answer."<p>

"Is something wrong?" Elizabeth Weber called from the nurse's station. Ewen looked up to see her concerned expression.

"It's…yes, I'm afraid something is wrong." He sighed and walked over to her. "What can you tell me about Morgan Benson?"

"Well," Elizabeth thought about it. "I know a Morgan _Corinthos,_ son of Sonny Corinthos and Carly Jacks, but he's been away at school for a couple years and-"

"That's him." Ewen cut in. "Sorry for interrupting, but I have a feeling something's wrong."

"He called you?" Elizabeth asked skeptically. "I wasn't aware that you two knew each other."

"We don't," Ewen explained. "Not really, anyway. I met with him a couple days ago, and we started talking. He seemed very…tense. Like something was weighing him down."

"How long has he been in Port Charles?"

"I would guess only a few days, only a handful of people know. Do you know where he is staying?"

"You know what," Elizabeth picked up the nurse's phone. "I can call his sister-in-law. If Morgan's returned from school, that means he's probably seen his brother."

* * *

><p>Ewen drove Elizabeth to Kelly's. It wasn't like he had particularly <em>wanted<em> Elizabeth to come, but he seemed to have momentarily forgotten where the diner was located, and she was good company, anyhow. They didn't speak much, but she would occasionally tell him to turn a certain direction, or mock his driving skills.

"If the wheel was on the other side we wouldn't be having this problem." Ewen grumbled.

"Welcome to New York." Elizabeth laughed.

"Welcome to America," he retorted, pulling into the familiar restaurant. "Yes, this looks familiar."

"You've been here before." Elizabeth got out of the passenger's side and walked into the diner, Ewen a few steps behind, easily catching up with a few long strides.

"Shawn," Ewen nodded at the veteran, whom he had worked with before. He and Carly, Shawn's then employer, had worked together to get a dog for Shawn. The dog was a comfort for the damaged war veteran, as his Post-traumatic Stress Disorder often got in the way of how Shawn wanted to live.

"Doctor," he nodded back. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Morgan Benson staying here?"

"Yeah, he's been using all the hot water." Shawn muttered. "Why, is he in trouble?"

"I'm afraid so," Ewen looked grim. "Can you show me to his room?"

"What's going on, doctor?" Shawn frowned. "If he's in trouble with the law-"

"No, it's not that." Elizabeth shook her head. "Ewen believes he's in trouble with himself."

Shawn reached into a drawer and pulled out a key. "All right," he sighed. "I'm coming with you."

* * *

><p>Shawn nervously slid his spare key into the lock to Morgan's room. As soon as Ewen and Elizabeth had walked in, he got worried. They looked too serious to be out for coffee and a slice of pie. The key fit perfectly, and he pushed open the door without another word.<p>

Although it wasn't anywhere past four in the afternoon, the lights were off and it was quite dark in the room. Shawn reached towards the lights and turned them on.

There was Morgan, unconscious and bleeding, a mangled heap on his bed.

"I'm getting a first aid kit." Elizabeth instantly headed back downstairs.

"There's one in the kitchen." Shawn called after her.

"I brought my own."

Ewen watched her leave, but Shawn had moved closer to the young man. His hair was wet and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What do you think happened?" Shawn asked quietly. Ewen moved over and checked Morgan's pulse.

"He must have passed out while he was calling me." Ewen muttered, noticing the discarded phone.

"But that doesn't explain _why_ he called you."

"Perhaps not," Ewen shrugged. "Or perhaps it does."

Morgan stirred, his eyes slipping open slowly. His head was pounding, his hand was burning, and the light blinded him for a bit. When he finally adjusted to the light, he felt two, strong arms pull him up. He heard the strong, rich voice of Shawn Butler, and the concerned, softer voice of Dr. Ewen Keenan. They were talking amongst themselves; he heard his name more than once.

"Morgan," Ewen was rubbing his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he finally spoke, still slightly disoriented. He saw Shawn Butler standing behind Ewen, his strong arms crossed over his chest, a scowl written across his face.

"Do you remember what happened?" Ewen asked slowly. Morgan frowned, looking down at his hand. It was a bloody mess. He began to shake again.

"Hey, hey, Morgan, it's okay. We brought a nurse with us." Ewen reassured him, calming the boy down. "But, you have to tell us what happened, all right? You have to tell us so we can help you."

"I…" Morgan's head hurt again. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember how you hurt your hand?"

"No." Morgan answered, shaking his head. "I took a shower," he gestured weakly towards the bathroom, where steam was still filing out. "And then, and then I…" he couldn't remember. How did he get from the bathroom to his bed? Why was Ewen here? How did he hurt his hand? "I can't—I don't know."

"Ewen," Elizabeth returned with a first aid kit, quickly making her way to the bed where Morgan lay. She stepped on something during her haste. Looking down, she saw a ripped, mangled baseball card. She bent down and picked it up. "Is this yours?" She asked Morgan.

Morgan stared at the card. On the front was a picture of Reggie Jackson, up at bat. Below was his signature. Yes, he was starting to remember. On the back was another signature, a newer signature.

_To Morgan, my best friend. _

_Vinny Triste._

_Don't lose this card again!_

Morgan's breath hitched, and he shut his eyes. He didn't want to look at anybody. He squeezed the card as hard as he could, hoping it would disappear.

"Morgan," Elizabeth's voice was soft. "Can I look at your hand, please? I promise I won't hurt you, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered. He let her address his bleeding knuckles. She took a wet cloth and pressed it to the injury, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Morgan, it looks like you're going to have to get stitches in your hand, we're going to have to take you to the hospital." She said. "You've got a pretty bad cut on the back of your hand."

"I punched a wall," his voice was soft. He sighed. "I was thinking again."

"Of what?" Ewen asked. "Was it a bad memory?"

Morgan nodded. "It was a bad memory, but-"

"But not the worst." Shawn finished for him, and Ewen and Shawn exchanged knowing glances.

"C'mon, man, let's get you to the hospital." Shawn wrapped an arm under the boy and easily picked him up, carrying him down the stairs and into the back of Elizabeth's van, ignoring looks from startled customers in the diner as they went.


	12. Pictures

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twelve

* * *

><p>"<em>Vinny!" Morgan quickly grabbed his friend after Paul and Frank had scattered. "Vinny, c'mon, man, wake up." Slowly, the young boy did, and instantly began to cry. He pushed past Morgan, shaking violently. Morgan helped Vinny sit down. <em>

"_I'm done, Morgan." He whispered. "I'm done with all this." _

"_Ah, c'mon," Morgan patted his back. "We're graduating in a less than a week, you can pull through."_

"_And then what?" Vinny sighed. "Go back to a place where everyone hates me?" _

"_You can come with me back home." Morgan suggested. "You can meet my brothers, Dante and Michael."_

* * *

><p>Morgan sat on the hospital bed, legs hanging off the mattress. He was still dressed in his own clothes, still conscious. Elizabeth had wanted to take him to a room, anyway. Ewen had insisted he be moved to the psychiatric ward—as if he were someone crazy. Maybe he was crazy. He watched her methodically stitch his hand back together, feeling the tugging of needle against skin. Funny, he remembered punching the wall, but not the pain. Not the blood.<p>

Watching from the door, Dr. Ewen Keenan sighed. He figured he had seen enough. He was glad Elizabeth had come with him to Kelly's; he wouldn't have known what to do with the boy's injury without her help. And, of course, Shawn Butler, who was sitting outside.

"Mr. Butler," Ewen took a seat next to his sometimes-patient. "I wanted to thank you for taking Morgan here."

"No problem," Shawn seemed distracted, drumming his hands against the handles of the chair he was sitting in.

"Is something wrong?" Ewen asked. Shawn shook his head at first, but then shrugged.

"Do you think something happened to Morgan at school?" Shawn looked up. "He's been like this ever since he returned; tense all the time, uptight...quiet. The only time I've seen him even _remotely_ enjoying himself is when he is with his family. The stop by the diner sometimes."

"You know, I really haven't had a chance to talk to Morgan." Ewen admitted. "I met him once, at the gym, but I seemed to rub him the wrong way. I talked to him about his baseball card, the one he's always carrying around. Have you seen it?"

"Yeah," Shawn nodded. "Reggie Jackson card."

"It's autographed, too, on the front."

"What about the autograph on the back?" Shawn asked.

Ewen frowned, shaking his head. "I wasn't aware of another autograph."

"Sure, it's on the back of the card." Shawn repeated. "He's always looking at it."

"Does he have the card with him now?" Ewen stood up, suddenly energized.

"I would think so."

"Well," Ewen sighed, sliding back down into the chair. "No, we should probably give him some time with Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth is a nice lady," Shawn nodded knowingly. "Are you two-?"

"I don't know." Ewen shrugged. "I…I've made some mistakes, so I don't know how lightly she thinks of me at the moment."

Shawn nodded again, rubbing his hand along his cheek and sighing. "Do you think I should call his family?"

* * *

><p>"<em>And, hey, we can take you to a Yankee game, sometime. You and my brothers and I. That would be fun, right?" <em>

"_I'm a Mets fan, Morgan, you know that." _

"_Yeah, I've still got hope for you, though." Morgan laughed nervously. He didn't like how Vinny was acting. "Did I mention there's only a week left of school?" _

"_Four days." _

"_Right, soon you'll never have to see Paul or Frankie again!"_

"_Then someone else will pick on me." _

"_Why are you so down on yourself, man?" Morgan frowned. "C'mon, let's go get dinner." _

"_No, I'm…I'm going to go to bed." _

"_You sure?" _

"_Yeah, I'll—yeah."_

"_Okay, see you tomorrow, then." Morgan turned to go to the mess hall. _

"_Morgan?" _

"_Yeah?" _

_Vinny looked down. "You really are my best friend."_

* * *

><p>Detective Dante Falconeri walked into General Hospital's psychiatric ward, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He flagged a nurse down. "Hi, Detective Dante Falconeri with the PCPD."<p>

"Yes, good evening, Detective." The nurse looked at him none too kindly. "Unfortunately, the man you are trying to see is currently undergoing surgery."

"But we had a sched-"

"Goodbye, Detective Falconeri." The nurse walked past him. Dante sighed. Figures the one man he has to see in the entire hospital was in surgery. What about 'scheduling a meeting' did that man not understand? If he wanted to help his daughter's case any, he would certainly have to be accountable. What was the use, asking a clinically insane, seventy-something man for help?

"Dante," Shawn Butler was giving him a grim look. Dante raised an eyebrow.

"Shawn. What are you—is there something I can help you with?"

"Detective, good to see you again. Ewen Keenan." Ewen stood up and shook the Italian's hand, whom he had worked with before to help with a case.

"Hi…" Dante cleared his throat. "Are you here for Mr. Bruzelli? 'Cause, no offense, doc, I'm sure you're smart and all, but I don't know how much I can get out of his psychiatrist without you stepping over some legal boundaries."

"Understood." Ewen shrugged. "I'm actually here for your brother, Morgan."

"What?" Dante laughed. "What could Morgan be doing here? I mean, the guy's as fit as a fiddle, sharp as a nail...I could go on."

"What do you know about your brother's stay at Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy?" Ewen asked cautiously.

"Well," Dante faltered. "Not much, really. I wouldn't be the one to ask."

"You're his brother."

"Yeah, but, I mean, our family is…complicated, at best. Even though Morgan and I are close, my relationships with his parents aren't as picture perfect."

"So you know nothing of his stay. He said nothing to you in those four years." Ewen summed up, not really believing the detective's story.

"Listen, doc, I know he wrote to his mother every month or so, and from those letters it appears that he had a pretty good time. Beyond that, I can't help you much." He began to walk towards the elevators.

"Detective," Ewen called, his voice quieter and slower. "I'm only asking this because Morgan is here. He's at the hospital, getting his hand stitched back together, because I found him in his room, unconscious and bleeding. So, I'm asking you, as his doctor. Did anything traumatic happen to Morgan during his stay at Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy?"


	13. Patterns

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter thirteen

* * *

><p><strong>An: Chapter thirteen on the thirteenth. Happy Friday!**

* * *

><p>"Where is he?" Dante ignored the question, nearly pushing past Shawn and Ewen.<p>

"Detective-"

Dante turned around swiftly. Ewen opened his mouth to ask the question again, but the look in Dante's eyes made him reconsider. He looked worried for his brother, furious with Ewen for keeping him waiting, and confused, because he now knew there was something more to his brother's life, something he hadn't expected. Ewen bowed his head.

"He's in the room behind you."

Tearing the door open, Dante all but ran into the hospital room. He was acting uncharacteristically, but he didn't even register. Morgan was sitting up on the bed, watching as Elizabeth Weber wrapped some gauze around his hand. He looked up and saw Dante, his expression speaking louder than any word. The two brothers stared at each other for a while, before Dante slowly moved over to his brother.

"I can explain." Morgan started. Dante shook his head. The explaining could be saved for later, all Dante cared about at the moment was that his younger brother was okay. "Dante, please let me explain."

"Um," Dante shook his head, clearing his throat. He didn't want to see his brother like this. Morgan looked horrible. "I'm just glad you're okay. You're okay, right?"

"No," Morgan looked up at his brother. "No." And as quickly as Dante had walked into the room, he was now hugging his brother. Short pats on the back complemented small words of encouragement from a shaken man.

"All right, man." Dante pulled back, smiling bravely at Morgan. Elizabeth smiled at both of them, touching Dante's shoulder reassuringly as she walked out of the room.

"He's in good hands." She nodded at Shawn and Ewen.

"Do you think I could-" Ewen started, unsure of what to say.

"You can go in." Elizabeth smiled softly at him. "I don't think he'll mind."

"Elizabeth," he called after her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She nodded at him, and he and Shawn went into the room.

"Morgan," Ewen greeted the young man, who pulled away from his brother.

"Thank you for finding me." He said.

"Ah." Ewen shrugged. "Well, in any case, you called me first."

Morgan nodded, lying down on the hospital bed. Dante got up and let Ewen sit down.

"I should go." He looked at Morgan sadly. Morgan agreed solemnly.

"I'll go with you." Shawn caught up with Dante, and the two left the room, closing the door behind them. Morgan wished they hadn't left, he knew what Ewen was going to ask.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I should probably feel worse, shouldn't I?"

"For what?" Ewen frowned.

"For…for causing this mess." Morgan faltered. "But I don't feel anything."

"And you don't remember anything."

Morgan was silent. "I remember enough."

"Can I see your baseball card?" Instead of asking what he remembered, Ewen changed the subject, holding out his palm. Morgan reached into the pocket and placed the old thing in Ewen's hand.

"I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"You said that there's an autograph from Reggie Jackson on this card, correct?"

"Yeah?"

"Yet, there are two signatures." Ewen raised an eyebrow. "So, that makes me wonder whose signature it belongs to."

Morgan gulped.

"Vinny Triste." Ewen flipped to the back of the card, staring at the newer ink. Morgan closed his eyes at the name.

"What can you tell me about Vinny Triste?"

"Nothing."

"You're going to make me guess?"

"Like I said before, you'd never guess." Morgan shook his head.

"Vinny went to school with you." Ewen started guessing, looking Morgan in the eye the entire time. "He was a good friend, but troubled."

"Stop," Morgan groaned. He didn't want to listen to Ewen, who always seemed to be right.

"You took him under your wing, but you couldn't quite straighten out every peculiarity."

"Where is he now, if you're so smart?" Morgan glared at him.

"That's where you come in." Ewen wasn't taking any of Morgan's spite. "Something happened to Vinny, and he isn't here anymore. _You_ were involved in that something."

"Say it." Morgan growled. "Where. Is. Vinny."

"You tell me."

"Guess."

"Dead."

* * *

><p>Ewen placed his phone back down. Mrs. Jacks had just hung up on him—or was that Ms. Benson? He had gone back to his office and called her, trying to explain the situation, but she was very busy and was furious that Ewen wasn't allowing her to see her son. If the roles had been flipped, Ewen knew he would have been angry, as well. He wanted Morgan to stay the night in the psychiatric ward, so he could monitor him. He was determined to get to the bottom of this Vinny Triste business. If he really wanted to, he could Google the sorry chap, but he wanted Morgan to tell him. He needed to make sure Morgan was comfortable discussing Vinny; because Ewen had a feeling Vinny was the root of Morgan's problems.<p>

Morgan, at first, did not want to stay at the hospital. Ewen had to assure him the psychiatric ward was _not_ full of crazy people for him to agree to stay. How long would it take for people, not just Morgan, to realize that Ewen did not only work with the clinically insane, but sane people, who led stressful lives? That did not make them 'crazy' in any way Ewen could think of, and he thought a great deal.

"Ewen," Elizabeth poked her head in his office door. She looked tired; her neat ponytail had slipped further down her back. He briefly glanced at his watch—10:03 p.m. Of course, he knew what she was going to say. She needed go home and be with her children, especially at a time like this. The anniversary of her son's passing had only just occurred. It was silly of him to want to keep her with him on a night like this.

"Have a good night," he tried to remain as casual as possible, nodding at her with a slight smile.

"I can go?" She asked, pleasantly surprised.

"I never made you stay." He laughed softly, shrugging. "Besides, watching someone's sleep patterns probably won't be very interesting for you. You should go home."

"Thank you." Elizabeth smiled warmly at him. "I'll tell Aiden and Cam that you say hello."

"Send them my regards," he agreed.

"Good night, Ewen." She thanked him again and left.

"Sweet dreams," he mumbled, watching her leave. After she was out of sight he sighed, rubbing his eyes. He knew _he_ wouldn't be dreaming tonight. And, hopefully, neither would Morgan. Dreams, for his patients, only led to nightmares.

* * *

><p>Ewen still did not consider Morgan his patient. In fact, this was the first time he could ever think of pinning Morgan down as one. He still held a sense of normalcy—a word Ewen hardly used—than, per se, Kate Howard. Kate Howard, who was really Connie Falconeri, a woman Ewen feared would wreak havoc upon Port Charles if she wasn't stopped soon.<p>

Pushing aside the thought, Ewen got up and walked out of his office. The hallways of a hospital at night were not, to say the least, peaceful. Beeps and blurs and yawning nurses cluttered the room. One alert RN informed Ewen that Morgan had been awake ten minutes ago, and Ewen thanked her, heading towards the boy's room.

The lights were off, the door slightly ajar. Ewen peered into the room. Morgan was, now, most definitely, asleep. He seemed peaceful enough, the covers pulled up to the middle of his chest, his strong arms wrapped loosely around one pillow as the other rested underneath his head, and his feet completely hidden under the soft blankets. His clothes lay folded on the chair closest to the bed, as a nurse had dressed him in a hospital gown…Ewen guessed Morgan wasn't too happy about that. He wouldn't have been, either.

Morgan was hooked up to many machines, that was for sure. Some monitored his heart rate, while others took on his breathing and how much he moved. The sounds he made were being recorded, from snores to moans and perhaps even words, whatever Morgan might mutter throughout the night would be on tape.

Ewen shut the door and moved to a room close to Morgan's. It was somewhat like a conference room, with a large table and chairs, but he was the only one occupying it and the machines took up much of the space. He shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, leaning against the back of the table and staring at the machines. His notebooks and manila folders lay dormant on the table beside him, he hadn't a folder for Morgan yet, who was, like he said before, not officially his patient.

He reached back to his suit and pulled out a pen from the breast pocket, clicking it on. He grabbed his legal pad and began to write.

_Morgan Benson (Corinthos). Monitored sleep for night of March 30, 2012._

_10:09 p.m.—sleeping soundly._

_11:30 p.m.—slight moans and movement. Unsure of cause. Blood pressure the same. _

_11: 45 p.m.—blood pressure increase. _

_12:00 a.m.—moans and movements, first pillow knocked off bed._

_12:02 a.m.—patient is awake._

_12: 53 a.m.—patient is asleep._

_1:47 a.m.—patient is awake, blood pressure increase. _

_2:31 a.m.—patient is asleep. _

_3:19 a.m.—patient has left the room. _


	14. Spirits

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter fourteen

* * *

><p><em>Vinny: Morgan. I know you won't understand what I have to do, but I want you to know that you were always my best friend. My only friend. We had a great time together. I'm glad you got your card back. n<em>

_Morgan stared down at his phone, frowning. What the hell was Vinny up to? They didn't get out of school for another three days; he shouldn't be saying his goodbyes so soon. And the way Vinny had been acting lately…Morgan had reason to worry. He looked over towards Vinny's bunk, which was surprisingly empty. Morgan really began to worry, now. Although cadets were not allowed to leave their bunks after the 'lights out' was called, Morgan slipped out in search for his friend. _

_As soon as he stepped out of the halls, he was confronted by Sergeant Tackett. Tackett raised his eyebrows at Morgan, who knew he was in deep trouble. _

"_Bathroom?" Tackett asked uncomfortably, for he wasn't one for that sort of stuff. Morgan thought about simply saying 'yes' and moving on, but something made him stay put. _

"_No." He whispered. _

"_No?" Tackett was surprised at the honesty. "You know where you're supposed to be, Cadet, now be there." _

"_Sir-"_

"_Cadet. Go back to the bunks." _

"_Sir-"_

"_Are you disagreeing with me, Cadet?" Tackett became angry. Morgan shook his head quickly. _

"_No, sir, no. It's Vinny Triste, sir. He's not in his bunk." _

"_It's not your responsibility to-"_

"_Yes, sir. I know, sir. But, look at what he wrote." _

"_Cadet, no phones allowed." Tackett grumbled, but took the phone anyhow, reading the message carefully. When he was finished, he gave Morgan a concerned look. _

"_Where could your friend be, Cadet?" _

"_I have an idea, sir." _

_Morgan was right. Vinny was standing outside, playing with a gun. A gun that should be locked away with the others, but had somehow gotten out. He stared at it conflictingly, flipping it around in his hands. Morgan stepped forward to confront his friend, but Sergeant Tackett held him back. _

"_What is he going to do?" Morgan tried to keep his voice down, but Vinny still heard. He looked up slowly to see the official and his best friend, laughing softly. _

"_It's all right, Morgan." He called. "I'm going to be okay." _

"_What the hell are you doing, man?" Morgan yelled. "This isn't you." _

"_Let's not jump to conclusions." Tackett grumbled. "Cadet, I'm giving you twenty seconds to put that gun away and come to me." _

"_And if I don't?" Vinny asked. Morgan gave him an appalled look. Vinny was never like this, he always followed orders. Hell, he was scared of Sergeant Tackett most days…except apparently not tonight. _

"_Cadet, I didn't ask for backtalk." Tackett growled. _

"_You never answered my question." Vinny loaded the gun. _

"_You know the answer." _

"_No, I really don't." Vinny looked down, shaking his head. "I'm so sick of this place. I'm sick of everyone here, I'm sick of all of the things I had to go through." He sniffed and wiped his nose. _

"_I'm sorry, Morgan. I'm not the friend you thought I was." Vinny choked up, and shakily cocked the gun. Morgan couldn't speak, he couldn't move. He had this horrible, wretched feeling in his gut. _

_Sergeant Tackett began to cautiously step forward. "Vincent," he whispered, using Vinny's full name. _

"_Don't move!" Vinny yelled. "D-don't come any closer." _

"_Damn it, drop the gun!" Tackett yelled. _

"Don't tell me what to do!"_ Vinny screamed. "No one gets to tell me what to do anymore, got it? Understand? I'm my own person, now. My own spirit. Finally." He aimed his gun at its target. _

_Before Morgan heard the noise, he hit the ground. Tackett pushed him down, holding him steady, thinking they were being fired at. Morgan thought so to, angry at Vinny. Why would Vinny try to kill him, after all they had done together, all they had been through? Slowly, to his horror, he realized the only one who had been injured was Vinny. _

"_Vinny," he whispered, getting up and running to his friend. At the sound of a gunshot, the cadets had all filed out, still in their pajamas, dazed and concerned. _

_Vinny was on the ground, bleeding from his chest. Morgan helped prop his friend's head up, but he really had no idea what to do. He felt so helpless. _

"_Help me," Vinny whispered. "I…I didn't…I…it was supposed to be quick…" Vinny's breathing was becoming shallower. "Help."_

_That was his last word. Morgan stared at him, shocked. A cool chill ran through his body, taunting him. It would be so easy just to take the gun and shoot. Shoot Paul. Shoot Frank. Everyone who had bullied Vinny throughout his years here. But, he couldn't. He felt so pointless, Vinny was already faltering, and it wasn't like he could do anything to help. Oh, but he wished, he tried _desperately_ to keep Vinny breathing, to keep him afloat. People were whispering, screaming, yelling. Morgan was silent all the while. _

_Someone was talking about the body. Where to keep the body, they certainly couldn't ignore it. The body would have to be collected by the family at some point or other, that was a given. Morgan frowned, what body? This was Vinny, his best friend, not some sort of corpse. Except that he was. _

"_Take the body," someone said. "Take the body back inside. Get a cadet to help." _

_Morgan felt himself being pulled up, he felt Vinny's body move from under him. Cadets were helping to carry their fallen comrade. Morgan searched the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Students that never knew Vinny, students that never knew what he really went through. Neither did Morgan. He never knew how Vinny felt. He never thought to ask. _

_Morgan heard his name being called, but he didn't respond. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. He felt someone grab his arms and pull him back against a cold, unforgiving wall. Morgan slowly reached up to his face and realized he had been sobbing. He realized the low moaning he kept hearing did not come from Vinny, but from him. _

_Vinny was still dead. _

_Morgan was still alive. _

_He slowly slipped to the ground in a heap of exhaustion and unconsciousness. _


	15. Stars

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter fifteen

* * *

><p>Morgan was awake instantly, his breathing coming out in short little gasps. He felt as constricted and vulnerable as he did that night, the night Vinny died. He looked around him; he was in a dark room, dark as night. Soft little <em>beeps<em> could be heard from various machines he was strapped to. He suddenly felt the tugging of all the coils of machinery wrapped around him. He grabbed them angrily and pulled them away from him. He didn't want to be tied down, especially in a hospital. He threw on a pair of sweats and undershirt Dante had left for him and all but pushed his way out the door.

Nurses gave him odd glances, but he didn't say anything to them, there was nothing to say. His head was pounding, making him think all different kind of thoughts. Bad thoughts. Good thoughts. Scary thoughts. He punched the button to the elevator, but when it wouldn't open he became impatient and went to the stairs instead.

He figured if he ran up and down the stairs as fast as he could, he would tire himself out and wind up going back to bed. However, after a few sprints, he was becoming more alert, more awake. He kept going up and down, up and down. Step, step, step. The repetition was good, it kept him from thinking. Thinking about what, really? What was he avoiding so much?

He was avoiding that night. He was avoiding Vinny. He was avoiding Jax's death. He was avoiding his father. He was avoiding life.

Stopping mid-step, Morgan sighed. He slowly went up the stairs, his legs pulsing from the exercise beforehand. Then, he went up another flight of stairs, and another, and another, until he couldn't go up anymore. Until he reached the top floor. He opened the door to the roof.

Someone was already on the roof, standing with his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets. He was looking up at the sky, his face turned upwards. Morgan looked up as well. The sky was beautiful, this early in the morning, stars visible and twinkling down at him. Morgan almost smiled. The last time he had seen the stars like this was when he first returned to Port Charles, and had slept under the stars.

"Sorry, uh, I didn't know you were here." The man said sheepishly, wiping his eyes quickly. Morgan frowned, why was he crying?

"I just came up here to think." He shrugged in response, walking up to the man.

"Yeah, me too." The other man sniffed. "Um, sorry."

"I'm Morgan Benson." Morgan held out his hand to diffuse the tension.

"Dr. Hunter." The man shook Morgan's hand firmly. "Well, Matt. Matt is good."

"Are you a doctor like Dr. Keenan, or a doctor like Dr. Drake?"

"Well, Patrick's my brother, and yeah, I'm a doctor like him." Matt laughed. "I was actually…I was just thinking about him."

"I heard about his wife." Morgan said sadly. "I'm really sorry."

"It's weird," Matt shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. "I never thought that I was that close to my sister-in-law," he choked up, shaking his head.

"I know." Morgan leaned against the wall, taking in the cool night air. "I know."

"Sorry, uh," Matt cleared his throat. "Are you a patient or something? Do you need-"

"No, I'm fine." Morgan interrupted. "Uh, Dr. Keenan kept me here tonight. He wants to monitor my sleeping patterns."

"So…you're not exactly _sleeping,"_ Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Morgan shrugged. "It didn't work out."

"It didn't work out?"

"I couldn't do it."

"Sleep?"

"It doesn't matter." Morgan rubbed his sleepless eyes.

"Well, Dr. Keenan probably has you in for a reason." Matt put in. "Actually, he's probably looking for you."

"He knows where I am." Morgan shrugged. "He's monitoring me, remember?"

"He's just trying to do his job."

"Yeah, and so far, I've paid him nothing, so we'll see how that goes." Morgan scoffed. "What's going on with you?"

"Wow, uh," Matt sighed. "My brother is grieving, my sister-in-law is dead, my father is back in town, my little niece just lost her mom, and, oh yeah, my girlfriend's in jail for murder."

"Murder?" Morgan was shocked. "Who are you-?"

"And she didn't even commit the crime, she's so sucked up in this guilt because she thinks she-" Matt looked up. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. The distraction is good." Morgan assured the doctor, who looked sheepish.

"Yeah…listen; I'll take you back to your room."

"Why?" Morgan grumbled. "There's not much I can do in a stuffy, old room."

"Yeah, I know, it sucks. But Ewen knows what he's doing; I would just do what he wants. Maybe he can help you."

Morgan was silent for a moment. "All right," he whispered. "I'll go back."

* * *

><p>Ewen was sitting on Morgan's bed when Morgan returned to his hospital room. The lights were on; revealing the room Morgan had slept in. Small, plain, cramped. It was nothing more than a regular hospital room.<p>

Morgan closed the door quietly. He didn't want to look at Ewen. What would he see in his eyes? Disappointment? Guilt? Anger? Morgan couldn't be sure. He inhaled, preparing himself for the worst.

However, Ewen wasn't talking. He was looking down at his own hands, as if he were sorry for something. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket any longer, and the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up. He looked oddly frazzled and uncomfortable.

"I'll tell you," Morgan found himself whispering. It wasn't as if he wanted to say such a thing—he could think of nothing worse than telling some stuffy doctor about his trauma and his pain. Nevertheless, it was he who spoke first, he who had called the doctor, he who had agreed to stay the night at General Hospital. "I'll tell you everything."

Ewen looked up, a slight nod masking his relief. Morgan wasn't sure if Ewen was going to yell at him for leaving, for messing up the process, the monitoring. However, after a few thought after moments, the psychiatrist nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," he agreed, finally speaking to his patient. "But you'll have to stay another night."


	16. Promises

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter sixteen

* * *

><p>The second night wasn't any better for Morgan Benson. Ravished with memories twisted into nightmares, the poor, young man could barely look at Ewen when the doctor came to wake him up after a particularly bad dream. They had both decided it would be better just to talk to each other. They had hardly slept in two nights, and even then, Morgan had slept more than Ewen.<p>

Ewen pulled up a chair to Morgan's bed and checked his watch. 3:12 in the morning. What an unreasonable time. Morgan was sweating and breathing heavily. Every so often he would look towards the door, as if he were waiting for something…or someone.

"Are you ready?" Ewen asked Morgan, who was looking off into the distance. He nodded solemnly, not fully registering who was talking to him. Ewen took that as his cue.

"Yesterday, you told me that Vinny Triste, your classmate, committed suicide a little over a week ago." Ewen recalled yesterday's events.

It had taken the rest of the morning for Morgan to finally tell Ewen what had happened at school. Days before graduation, Morgan's best friend took his own life. Morgan watched the whole thing, Morgan watched and he never forgot. The very next day, after the traumatic event, Morgan went to the hospital, because he had passed out, almost randomly. He spent the night at the hospital, alone and miserable. Then, he had to graduate, one classmate short. In shock and confused, Morgan spent a day after leaving school in a self-destructive state, before he got into his car and drove. He didn't really know where he was going, but somehow, he ended up in Port Charles. The memories of his best friend's suicide and his step-father's mysterious murder began to weigh on him. As of today, there wasn't a time where he wasn't thinking about the two events. He thinks about what he could have done, what he should have done, what he wouldn't have done. Every thought is like a wound, it only ends in bruising, blood, and bitterness.

Morgan nodded again.

"Morgan, what can you tell me about that night?"

"The night Vinny passed?" Morgan repeated. "Nothing."

"Morgan, I'm being very serious. The more aware I am about your past, the more I can help you. I _can _help you, Morgan, trust me."

"Just like you helped that one girl, Cassandra? Yeah, I read about her in the paper, doc. You ripped out the article. You sure _cured_ her. How long were you working together, a _year?_ That's a lot of money. Yeah, you did a lot of good with her, that's why she's dead."

Ewen was silent for a very long time. He was used to his patients yelling at him, getting angry, making rude comments, but using Cassandra's name to hurt him? There wasn't much anyone could say to make him feel an ounce of anything but guilt for how Cassandra had died. He had tried so very hard to find out what was wrong with her; she was his top priority for many months—over a year. It hadn't been enough, however. She was dead, just like Morgan stated.

"That," he took in a deep breath. "Is irrelevant, and unchangeable. I will not discuss my…former patient's condition with you. There's such a thing called doctor-patient confidentiality, which I have explained to you many times-"

"Oh, shut up about the confidentiality!" Morgan snapped. "It's bullshit, I know you told my mom I was here. I'm an _adult,_ doc; I'm old enough to handle my own problems."

"Yes," Ewen nodded. "However, you are still on your mother's insurance. I felt obligated to-"

"If I wanted to talk to my mom, I would've called her. Not you. Me."

"You're right. I was out of line, and I'm sorry." Ewen apologized. "I assumed that your parents would want to know what was going on."

"My parents are responsible for the death of my step-father." Morgan said bitterly. "I don't have to tell them anything."

"Why do we keep coming back to your step-father?" Ewen asked. "I feel as if…" he hesitated. "Vinny caused your trauma, and your step-father only adds to your pain."

"Maybe," Morgan shrugged. "Maybe not. I thought _you_ were supposed to tell me these things, doc."

"Let me remind you, I'm not a miracle worker-"

"Obviously."

"-but I want to help you." Ewen finished, gritting his teeth. "I want you to enjoy your family again."

"Well, it's not like Cassandra ever will."

Ewen wasn't about to let one of his patients get under his skin. He stood up slowly, scribbling down notes on his clipboard. "You're obviously exhausted."

"No, I'm not going back to bed." Morgan hated how immature he sounded. "I want to leave."

"I don't want you driving in this mental state." Ewen responded firmly. "Stay here until someone can pick you up."

"Like my mother?"

"If you so wish." Ewen shrugged, it made no matter to him who took Morgan home.

"Wish? I _wish_ I didn't have to be here!" Morgan retorted.

"I understand-"

"I'm freakin' pissed off that I have to be in this stupid hospital hooked up to stupid machines!"

"When was the last time you slept?" Ewen asked, his hand on the doorknob. Mostly so he could leave, but also because he was afraid Morgan was going to make a break for it.

"The last time I slept?" Morgan scoffed. "Last night."

"No, like _actually _slept through the night without waking up." Ewen corrected himself. Morgan sat back; he had to think about that question.

"The second night I was in Port Charles, when I stayed at my brother's place."

"And why was that?" Ewen asked. "Could it have been the bed? Or the atmosphere?"

"No, no," Morgan shook his head. "I slept on the couch. Just…I remember that I was so happy to see my family again, and that's all I could think about. I didn't think of Vin—you know, him—all night. In fact, I had good dreams."

"You will have good dreams, again, Morgan." Ewen said. "I promise."


	17. Games

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter seventeen

* * *

><p>Dante Falconeri cursed as his wadded up piece of paper missed the trash can. Beside him, Ronnie Domestico, a fellow police officer and childhood friend, cheered.<p>

"You're losing it, Falconeri, you're losing it!" He teased, ripping out a piece of legal pad paper and rolling it up into a ball. "Watch and learn." He stood up, and, with a little hop, shot.

The paper missed.

"Nice jump shot," Dante scoffed. "Improved your aim, huh?"

"You haven't done better!"

"Oh, I beg to differ," Dante raised an eyebrow. "The score is ten to eight."

"Bull!"

"Ten to eight?" Officer Delores Padilla sauntered over to her desk, where Ronnie was perched. He instantly stood up, clearing his throat. "So, the whole time I was gone the two of you were screwing around?" She pushed strands of her long, dark hair behind her and placed both hands on her hips.

"Hi, Padilla," Dante began to pick up the paper wads that hadn't made it to the trash can. "H-how was lunch with Eddie?"

"Fine," Delores grumbled, sighing and taking her seat. "I would ask if you had done any work, but apparently not."

"Hey, now," Ronnie started, defensive. "We were on our break, too."

"Your break ended thirty minutes ago, detective." Padilla snapped, hurriedly writing on a file before closing it and throwing the folder at Ronnie. "Now you can make up for it by putting this away."

"Isn't that Lulu's job?" Ronnie grumbled, but took the paper anyhow.

"By the way, Dante," Delores looked up at her police partner. "Carly Jacks called you. She left a message."

"Carly called me?" Dante frowned, picking up the phone to his left and dialing her number, which Delores handed to him on a sticky note. "What does she have to say to me?"

Delores shrugged, and got up to get herself some coffee.

It wasn't as if Carly called Dante just to check up on her cousin's husband. Carly pretty much hated Dante, and wasn't that fond of Lulu anymore. The only thing Dante could think about that Carly would call him over would be Sonny or his siblings.

Morgan.

"Carly?" Dante cleared his throat. "Yeah, I got your message, what's up? No, uh, the last time I saw him was two days ago. Yeah, at the hospital, Dr. Keenan had him there for some reason. Morgan didn't look too good. He's probably still there, right? You're _at_ the hospital? Well, where is he? Have you asked Dr. Keenan? He's gone, too?"

* * *

><p>Elizabeth Webber gently kissed the top of her son's head. Aiden cooed softly in his sleep as Elizabeth settled him down for his afternoon nap. Aiden had been up and about all morning, playing with his toys and annoying Cameron. Well, that's what brothers did, Liz supposed. They annoyed each other.<p>

Cam was downstairs, playing avidly on his handheld game. Elizabeth could hear the noises from Aiden's room. Frowning, she quietly shut the door and headed downstairs.

"Aw, man!" Cameron groaned, tossing his DS to the side in frustration.

"What's the matter, Cam?" Elizabeth bent down towards Aiden's play area and began to pick up the cluttered mess of toys. There was a wide range of vehicles that Aiden liked to play with. He had gotten into most of Jake's motorcycles. Jake had loved motorcycles, just like his father.

"I can never get past level seven!" Cameron complained, angry with himself. Elizabeth began to speak to him, when suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Who's that?" Elizabeth asked herself, getting up and heading towards the front door. As soon as Elizabeth answered the door, she knew something was wrong with Ewen. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up unnaturally. He was slumped over oddly, as if he were exhausted. The more Elizabeth looked at him, she began to realize that maybe he _was_ exhausted.

"Ewen," she cleared her throat, opening the door wider to let the doctor in. He quietly closed the door behind him. "Why—what are you doing here? Can I help you with something?"

"Actually, Cameron invited me." Ewen looked a little sheepish.

"What?" Elizabeth looked over at her son, who was grinning.

"Mom, remember the time you took me to Kelly's and Dr. Keenan was there?" Cameron started. "He got me past level five, so he can get me past level seven!"

"Dr. Keenan looks very tired, Cam," Elizabeth laughed nervously. Ewen stifled a yawn, but shook his head.

"I'm very well, thank you." He nodded. "Would it be all right if I helped Cameron with his game?"

"Well, I mean…" Elizabeth bit her lip. "Aiden is sleeping and I've got to go to the grocery store soon and-"

"I'll stay here, you go." Ewen suggested, taking a seat next to Cameron and peering at his game.

"No, no, I couldn't." Elizabeth shook her head.

"Why not?" Ewen shrugged.

"Please, Mommy?" Cameron begged. "I promise we'll be quiet."

"You would stay here with the boys?" Elizabeth repeated in disbelief. "Aiden's a light sleeper, he might wake up-"

"We'll be fine, Elizabeth, trust me." Ewen smiled softly at her.

"Can I talk to you a second?" Elizabeth whispered.

"Ooh, you're in trouble!" Cameron widened his eyes.

"Cam," Elizabeth gave him a stern look. She then looked up at Ewen. "Listen, I understand that Cameron wants to play with you, and that's fine, but I don't think I'm fine with leaving you alone with the kids. You look like you could pass out."

"I'm _fine,_ Elizabeth, really." Ewen lied. "You don't have to worry. I'll bring Aiden down here when he wakes up, but I don't think we'll take long, anyway. It's one level."

Two nights of research and zero hours of sleep had given Ewen the results he needed. The first night, of course, had been a disaster. Morgan wasn't sleeping, and Ewen sure as hell wasn't. In fact, Ewen hadn't slept in, well, two days.

"You don't understand, Ewen," Elizabeth sighed. "I don't want anything to happen to them. Not like with what happened to Jake."

"Elizabeth," Ewen took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Don't you trust me?"

"I-"

"Then you'll know that Cameron and I will just sit here and play his game, and if Aiden wakes up, I'll bring him down. We won't go near the door."

"C'mon, Mommy!" Cameron cried. _"Please?" _

Elizabeth looked at the two. "Fine," She whispered. "Fine."


	18. Walls

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter eighteen

* * *

><p>Three soft raps on Michael's door brought Starr Manning out of her thoughts. Sighing, she put a small piece of paper back in her pocket. She had been looking at a picture of Cole, Hope, and herself. She didn't really think the Starr in the picture was her, however. That girl seemed happy, surrounded by a loving family. And, now? She was miserable. She was a different girl.<p>

"Coming," she headed towards the door. Michael was out, for his mother had called and wanted to see him for dinner. Which meant she was alone, at an apartment that wasn't hers, with only her memories for cruel company.

The door opened to reveal a tall and strong young man, with short, dark hair and a confused look. He had dark circles under his eyes, slightly visible in the dull light streaming from the hallway.

"Hi," she wiped a stray tear from her eyes and sniffed, greeting the stranger. "Are you looking for Michael?"

"Y-yes," he stuttered. "Am I in the wrong room?" Morgan peered past her shoulder and into the apartment. It certainly looked the same, just as Abby had left it. The bright, happy colors, the quaint furniture, everything seemed so familiar. Morgan suddenly knew that whatever he was going through with Vinny, Michael understood. Michael understood more than he wanted him to.

"Are you okay?" Starr frowned, looking at him strangely. "You're trembling."

"What?" Morgan looked up, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. His hands fell limp at his side, no longer pressed into fists.

"Are you okay?" Starr asked again. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we've met. Are you here for Michael?" Starr didn't pause for an answer. "He's out right now, but he said he wouldn't be long. Would you like to come in and wait?"

"Yeah," Morgan said again, taking in a deep breath. "Yes." He realized that he had been leaning against the door, and awkwardly got up, stepping into the memorable room.

"Do you need to sit?" Starr looked at him again, concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Morgan scoffed at the tormented simile, now more real to him than ever. Abby, Vinny, Jax, they were all gone. And he was still here, an empty shell of what he once was. He could only take so much.

"I'm fine," he reassured her, but sat down on the couch anyway. He moved aside a blanket and pillows, not thinking much of the matter; until, suddenly, he fit two and two together.

"Are you living with my brother?"

"Brother?" Starr repeated in shock. "Michael never mentioned anything about…wait, are you the cop?"

"Are you living with my brother?" Morgan repeated the question, holding back his unruly temper. Starr was silent. She took the blanket and pillow and placed them neatly in a cupboard against one wall before turning around again.

"Michael has been gracious enough to let me stay with him until the trial is over." She answered, instinctively reaching into her pocket for her picture. She pulled out the photo, the only glimpse to her past she had with her at the moment. She couldn't bear to lose the memory, so she kept the photo in her pocket. Meanwhile, Morgan was doing the same, except he was pulling out a worn baseball card from the pocket of his jeans.

"I assume you know about the trial, being a cop." Starr continued, sitting next to Morgan, but not too close. She still didn't know this 'brother's' name, or what he was doing here.

"The cop is my other brother, Dante. I'm Morgan." The boy answered, voice smaller than before. "I guess he didn't mention me."

"I'm sure that he just didn't get to talking about his whole family, that's all." Starr reassured him, and then stuck out her hand. "I'm Starr Manning."

Starr Manning. Morgan knew the name, he knew that he recognized her the moment she answered the door. This was the girl that had been in a car accident, except it wasn't an accident, if you really thought about it. This was the girl whom had lost her daughter. This was the girl whom had lost her boyfriend. This was the girl who wanted to take down his father. Star Manning blamed Sonny Corinthos for the tragic death of her family.

"Do you not shake hands?" Starr asked, almost playfully, but she wasn't fooling Morgan. He could see the sorrow in her eyes, the grief and pain. _I understand_, he wanted to shout, _I know how you are feeling. _And so did Michael.

"Guess not," Starr cleared her throat, slowly moving her hand back down. Morgan snapped out his thoughts, quickly grabbing her hand before it fell against her hip, shaking it with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," he apologized. "It's just…I read about you."

_Damn,_ that's not what he wanted to say. _Hey, I heard your family died. All of Port and Charles and I read it in the paper. _He faltered, dropping her hand and looking down again. He was angry with himself. _You go to military school for four years and you suddenly act like you haven't ever met a girl before. _Not that Morgan was particularly attracted to Starr Manning; she was obviously living with Michael, the way he saw it.

"I mean," he started over. "I heard about your family, I'm really…I'm really…" What did he say next? He didn't feel like saying 'sorry' was good enough. Not when your boyfriend and daughter die. 'Sorry' didn't work. 'Sorry' was for when someone forgot your birthday. 'Sorry' was not for something so deep. But what else could he say? There were no words for something like this.

"There aren't any words I could say that would make you feel better." He found himself saying. There he went, being a jerk again. Nevertheless, he thought what he said to be true. How could he, as distraught as he was, presume to tell Starr that everything was going to be all right when he didn't believe it himself?

"You're pretty bad at this talking stuff, aren't you?" To Morgan's great surprise, Starr was laughing. "It's okay; you can just say that you're sorry."

"It wouldn't be enough." Morgan sighed. Starr grew silent. Looking down, she fingered her picture before looking up again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah," Morgan shrugged, still feeling like an idiot from before. "Sure."

"What is your relation to Sonny Corinthos?"

Morgan was quiet for a while. He rested his chin on his palm and closed his eyes. He hadn't thought about his father in a long time. He _didn't_ want to think about Sonny, actually.

"You mean, 'do I think he's innocent.'" Morgan reiterated, glancing at Starr.

"I never asked you your last name," Starr switched gears.

"Benson." Morgan answered quickly. "Morgan Benson."

"So, Sonny is your step-father?" Starr presumed. Morgan laughed, shaking his head.

"No, Sonny is my father." Seeing Starr's befuddled look, he backtracked. "I was born Morgan Stone Corinthos, Benson is my mother's maiden name."

"Sonny is your father?"

"Yes, and if you're going to ask me if he would kill a child, I couldn't tell you. Really, Starr, I couldn't. I haven't been in Port Charles for four years."

"Well, I just got here." Starr protested. "And I don't know anything about Sonny Corinthos, except that he shot out Anthony Zacchara's tires and killed Cole and Hope. You're his _son. _I can't talk to Michael, because he thinks your father is innocent. But I can talk to _you._ Tell me what he's like."

"He killed my step-father." Morgan whispered, his voice barely a murmur. He didn't want to say such a thing to her, to lead her on, like if Sonny killed Jax then he sure as hell killed Cole and Hope. He didn't want to be that guy. He didn't even know what kind of guy he was. Besides, it just slipped out.

He couldn't look at Starr; he didn't want to see what her face was like. Shocked, perhaps, that someone could kill so feverishly. Or maybe she knew, maybe she understood. Before Starr could say anything, the door opened.

"Starr, you're not going to believe what my mother-"Michael stopped dead in his sentence, staring at the two on the couch. "Oh. Morgan. I didn't know you were here, man."

"That makes two of us." Morgan answered.

"Oh." Michael looked down. "Morgan, this is Starr Manning. Starr, Morgan Cor—Benson. Morgan Benson."

_Morgan CorBenson. _Morgan was reminded of his first day at Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy, when he had messed up his new last name in front of the Colonel.

"We met," Starr nodded gratefully, standing up. "Did you want me to give you guys time?"

"No, no, that's okay." Michael looked at his brother before answering. "What's up, Morgan?"

"What were you saying about Mom?" Morgan avoided the question and went back to what Michael was so worked up about when he walked into the room. Once again, the fire entered his older brother's eyes.

"Yeah, so get this." Michael delved into his story, irate. "Mom invites me to the Metrocourt for dinner, says _nothing _of anyone else being there."

"I thought it was just going to be the two of you," Starr frowned.

"Yeah, so did I." Michael agreed. "Apparently not. When I got there, Mom was talking with John Zacchara."

"About what?" Morgan frowned. "Why was he talking with Mom?"

"Guess what, Morgan," Michael had worked himself up to this point. "Johnny and Mom are together."

"What?" Starr exclaimed. Morgan looked down, sheepishly.

"All the times Mom told _me _to stay away from him, and now she's sleeping with him?" Michael threw up his hands, and then noticed Morgan's look. "Did you know, Morgan?"

"Well-"

"You knew? Why didn't you tell me?" Michael demanded.

"I haven't been home in like, two days, man." Morgan retorted. "It's not like you bothered to ask about me or anything. Dante knew I was gone, you could have talked to him."

"What?" Michael leaned forward. "Where have you been?"

"I…" Morgan sighed, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I was at the hospital."

"The _hospital?"_ Michael frowned. "What were you doing there?"

In response, Morgan held up his hand. He had tried to keep it hidden for the longest time, but he figured somehow it would be seen. Besides, it was bandaged up, the stitches couldn't be seen.

"Morgan, what-?"

"I punched a wall, man. Doc monitored my sleep for two nights straight. Neither of us got any sleep."

"You punched a wall?" Michael repeated. "Why?"

"Um," Morgan became quiet. He couldn't talk about Vinny; it would just set him off. He might have to get stitches in his other hand. "Someone made me mad."

"You're just like me," Michael scowled. "Are you seeing someone about this?"

"No, my hand's fine, now."

"No, I mean, about this." Michael tapped his younger brother's forehead.

"Well, Dr. Keenan…sort of. I've never really had a formal session with him or anything. Besides, I don't think that I need to talk to anyone."

"Morgan, you look like hell."

"Did I mention I couldn't sleep?" Morgan laughed nervously. "It's probably the new room or something, the bed's kind of lumpy."

"Are you having nightmares or something?" Michael asked, concerned. "Do you need a place to stay?"

"I'm fine, really." Morgan held up his hands in mock surrender and stood up. "Don't worry about me."

"What's this?" Starr picked up the baseball card that had slipped from Morgan's fingers in his haste.

"Let me see that," Michael smiled at the old card, happy to see his brother had kept onto the gift for so long. "Man, you've sure worn this thing out, haven't you?" He laughed, looking at the front. Autographed by the great Reggie Jackson. He flipped the card over.

"Who's Vinny Triste?" He looked up. Morgan cringed at the name, nearly tripping over a discarded shoe.

"All right, it's getting kind of late." Morgan snatched the card out of Michael's hand. "I better get back, my landlord is going to be wondering why I haven't gone home in a couple days."

"No, Morgan, stay, it's only six thirty." Michael begged. "Why did you come here, in the first place? You never answered my question."

"I-it was a mistake." Morgan shook his head. "I'll see you around. Nice meeting you, Starr." Without another word, Morgan left the apartment, just as his memories collided with the present.

* * *

><p>"I'm home!" Elizabeth called, quickly turning the key into her home's lock, pushing the door open with her hip and carrying bags of groceries.<p>

"Ssh!" Cameron was there immediately, finger pressed firmly on his lips. "You have to be quiet, Mommy."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"He's asleep!" Cameron pointed over to where an exhausted Ewen Keenan lay stretched out on the couch, deep in sleep.

"Here, baby, take this bag, please." Elizabeth handed her son the lightest bag and took the rest into the kitchen, while Cam followed. Quietly, she began to put her groceries away. As she reached the brownie pan, she saw that the lid was not fully closed.

"Cameron," she scolded her son. "Did you take a brownie?"

"Dr. Keenan-"

"Nice try, mister, but you've still got chocolate on your mouth." Elizabeth bent down next to her son and gently wiped his mouth clean of any evidence. "My guess is you took the brownie after Dr. Keenan went to sleep, huh?"

"Aw, man." Cam said grumpily, for he knew he was caught.

"That's right. Now you have to help Mommy put away the food."

"Aww!" Cameron groaned. "I don't want to!"

"If you don't, dinner will be that much further away," Elizabeth retorted. "And then, you'll _never_ get a brownie."

Immediately, Cameron set to work, picking up a loaf of bread and heading to the pantry. Elizabeth took that as her cue to go back into the family room.

"Hi, baby," she looked down into the crib, beaming. Aiden, like Ewen, was asleep, a small blanket placed around her baby, as if it had been placed with care. Ewen must have done it, Elizabeth realized. She looked over at the doctor. He had placed his shoes neatly on the floor below his sock-clad feet. His arms were crossed across his chest, and his eyes content.

Elizabeth carefully took out a blanket from the closet, placing it around the psychiatrist. Ewen had been working with one of his patients and hadn't slept well in days. She hoped that, for Ewen's sake, his patient got the help they needed and started recovery soon. She didn't like to see Ewen so exhausted, especially when he still owed her a date.

"Cameron," Elizabeth smiled softly, calling to her son in the kitchen. "What would you say if Dr. Keenan stayed for dinner?"


	19. Events

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter nineteen

* * *

><p>Shawn Butler watched as Morgan Benson slowly slipped down the stairs and into the diner at Kelly's. The young man yawned, stretched, and in his haste accidentally hit his injured hand against the wall. Cringing, he pulled back with a scowl.<p>

"Morning," Shawn broke through the silence. Morgan looked up and nodded, his shoulders relaxing. That's what was different, Shawn realized, the boy was relaxing finally. His palms lay open at his sides, instead of in clenching fists, like he was ready to explode at any moment. His shoulders were no longer hunched forward; the dark bags under his eyes were slowly fading.

"Morning," Morgan returned the greeting and took a seat behind the counter. He still rubbed his bandaged hand. With his other hand, he reached towards a newspaper. He felt better, today, he truly did. He couldn't explain it, but ever since staying those nights at General Hospital, trying as they were, he felt better. He told Ewen everything. No more secrets.

_Mob boss Sonny Corinthos proven not guilty in court. More on page three._

Morgan frowned and turned the page. His father's picture stood out before him. He looked expressionless, almost unscathed. For what, proving that he wasn't a murderer? Because he was. Sonny had killed Jax, hadn't he? To Morgan, justice had not been served.

"I read about your father," Shawn nodded towards the article casually, drying off a coffee mug with a towel. "Did you go to the trial?"

"I…" Morgan shrugged, trying to appear as if he didn't care. "I've been at the hospital for the past couple days."

"You mean he hasn't visited you?" Shawn frowned.

"Well-"

"Does he know you're here?"

Morgan looked down. How did Shawn always know what was going on? He should mind his own business. No, Morgan had not spoken to or seen his father since he had returned to Port Charles. If his mother had his way, then Sonny would never see his son. That was why he was sent away in the first place. Sonny was too dangerous for Morgan.

Ever since returning to Port Charles, Morgan had stayed clear of the mob. He wasn't going to be involved, he kept telling himself. It wasn't his problem. Morgan knew better, however. He couldn't ignore his father. He couldn't ignore his family.

Looking up, Morgan slowly shook his head. "No, Dad doesn't know I'm here."

"I figured as much," Shawn took a seat next to Morgan, handing him a glass of milk. "I know you don't like coffee." He explained.

"Thanks," Morgan nodded gratefully.

"Listen," Shawn started. "You and I both know that Sonny is not high on my list of people, but he's still your father."

"I've heard this before," Morgan took a swig of milk and wiped his mouth, smirking at Shawn.

"Well, you'll hear it again. Cherish every moment you have with your parents, no matter how messed up they can get. They're the only ones you're going to get." Shawn reiterated. "And they love you. He loves you."

"I can't forgive him for what he did." Morgan sighed. "You of all people should know, especially with T.J."

"What?" Something in Shawn's voice was different, more strained. Morgan worried he had said the wrong thing.

"His father was killed, right? That's why he's here?"

"He told you?"

"He said his dad died in battle, yeah." Morgan explained. "Is that true?"

"Something like that," Shawn sighed. "Something like that."

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked. "Did you know T.J.'s dad?"

"I don't want to talk about that," Shawn answered quickly, suddenly turning stiff. "We were talking about your father."

"Well, I don't want to talk about that, either." Morgan downed the rest of his milk. "It's a…touchy subject."

"All I'm saying is that you might want to be the one to tell him that you're home." Shawn pressed. "You wouldn't want someone else to break news like that to him. Besides, you never know when it could be the last time you see your father." He got up, stretching his large muscles. "I'll see you around, Morgan."

"Shawn," Morgan stopped the strong man. "Your father's dead, isn't he?"

Shawn looked at Morgan slowly, his eyes giving away nothing, dark and unreadable.

"Make sure you give your dad a call." Shawn whispered. "Like I said, you'll never know until it's too late."

Morgan groaned. He couldn't forgive his dad, he just couldn't. Sonny had killed too many people to be forgiven just like that. Oh, but he wanted to. He slipped out his phone.

_Two missed events._

_One missed call: Mom._

_Event: 10:30 appointment with Dr. Keenan at General Hospital._

* * *

><p>Connie Falconeri woke up late. Too late. Double digits late. Annoyed, she rolled over onto her side and came face to face with a certain Sonny Corinthos.<p>

"Aw, gross!" Connie slithered away from the sleeping form; his bare chest had been her pillow throughout the night. No, he had been _Kate's _pillow. Lord knows that _Connie_ would never do such a thing. Not in a million years.

Getting up, Connie went to Kate's closet and began to swipe through the countless designer clothes and A-list items only Kate would wear. All buttoned shirts and pencil skirts, nothing the real Kate would wear. Nothing Connie would wear.

Connie reached into the very back of Kate's closet, where a few old boxes lay. "Jackpot," she whispered with a sly grin.

Inside were all the remnants of Constanza Louise Falconeri. Gaudy jewelry, knee-high boots, low cut tops, and lots of red lipstick. Certainly, she could pick something out of this stash. It was thoughtful of Kate to keep all of Connie's clothes folded so nicely.

She looked back at Sonny, asleep in Kate's bed. He looked peaceful as he slept, just like he would look when being lowered into his grave. Thoughts like that made Connie smile.

Other thoughts made her angry. Like how Johnny had suddenly backed out of their perfect deal, and how Sonny hadn't been convicted at the trial. Crap like that got to Connie. All she wanted to do was to make sure Kate and her were safe and out of Sonny's way, but all Kate Howard had time to do was to admit them into Shadybrook. A mental hospital. The nerve of that bitch. Of course, that doctor wasn't helping.

Dr. Ewen Keenan. Oh, the doctor had a body, didn't he? That accent, that broad chest, that rugged hair? He really knew how to get to Kate. If Connie was in charge, Dr. Ewen Keenan could exam her any time she wanted, and she would be more than willing to participate.

But he was stone cold. Rigid and professional. Concerned, yes, but that was it. He wouldn't help Kate the way Kate needed help, and whenever Connie tried to talk to Ewen, he ended up interrogating her.

Perhaps she needed to try a new tactic. Get the doctor into bed, not Johnny. Wouldn't be as much of a killer to poor Sonny, but certainly a well deserved bite in the ass. Not that Connie really minded who she was with, just as long as Sonny dumped her faster than he dumped his precious cargo. Besides, she would bet good money that that Dr. Keenan could take her places Johnny couldn't. Johnny was spoken for. Ewen, well, he was all hers.

This was going to be easy.


	20. Talk

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty

* * *

><p>"She just arrived this morning. Apparently, she didn't want to bother her parents. Her boyfriend finally drove her to the hospital today. He's pretty shaken up. She's worse." Dr. Steve Webber informed Dr. Ewen Keenan, as the two walked through the emergency ward of the hospital. "She was raped, doctor."<p>

Ewen nodded solemnly, and Dr. Webber patted his back before walking away towards the family of the teenage girl. Ewen stood outside the door to the hospital room. A pale, young girl was crying on a boy's shoulder, Ewen assumed that he was the boyfriend who had found his girlfriend after she had been attacked.

Ewen looked down at his report. The girl had been attacked at a party last night, and the rapist had managed to run away before the girl's boyfriend came into the room and saw her on the ground. He brought her back to his home, not wanting to bring her back to her parents, which was understandable. However, he did call them and explained what had happened. In the morning, she was taken to the hospital.

Steve had called Ewen down from his office to ask him to talk to the young girl, who was understandably in pain. Her boyfriend, too, who was searching for answers. The two were only in high school, not yet eighteen, still young. Too young.

He placed a steady hand on the doorknob and clicked his ballpoint pen reflexively.

"Hey, doc, over here." A particularly excited woman called from across the room. Ewen looked up to see a pair of long, sexy legs, a short, skin-tight skirt, a low-cut top, and long, tumbling blonde hair accenting bright red lips.

Connie Falconeri.

"Hey, doc, why don't you come and talk to me, huh?" Connie strutted over on heels made only for the truly brave.

"Do you have an appointment?" Ewen tried to remain casual, but Kate's alter sent him on edge. She was dangerous, not to be messed with. Not to mention a bloody handful.

"Screw the appointment, I just wanted to talk." Connie had sauntered up to him by now, slipping his hand off of the knob. "Don't you ever just want to talk?"

"There are a lot of things I would like to talk to _you_ about, Connie." Ewen assured her, leading her away from the room before she caused trouble. "However, you picked a bad time. I'm busy."

"Nuh-uh." Connie pouted her lower lip. "You ain't busy."

"Yes, Connie, I was about to talk to someone."

"Who?" Connie looked behind Ewen, like she had missed this person. Suddenly, it clicked. "Oh, I get it, it's confidential, right? Right, I won't go blowin' any secrets or nothin'. Let's go talk to this person."

"_No_, Connie." Ewen held her steady.

"You know, I like you Dr. Keenan," Connie smiled slyly. "You're the only one who calls me by my real name." She slid her hands into the pockets of his pants. "I like a man who respects me."

"_Connie." _Ewen calmly removed her hands away from him. "This has to stop. You can't do this here."

"Exactly," Connie agreed. "We'll take it to your office. Or better yet, let's just find a room, 'kay?"

"That's not what I meant," Ewen flustered. "You're twisting my words, Connie. Now, if you'd like to go to my office and _talk_, I would be happy too. However, I have an appointment in a little while, so we'll have to be quick."

"Oh, doc, you know I'm quick." Connie pulled him closer. "Don't you worry about a thing."

Ewen stepped back. "I really can't help you right now, Connie. I have to-"

"C'mere, doc." Connie pulled Ewen into a supply closet, shutting the door quickly. "There. You got your privacy, you good?"

"This isn't-"

Through the dark, Connie flattened Ewen to the wall, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Ewen remained still, but sighed, taking her hands off of him. Before he could push her away, Connie kissed him again. This time, Ewen jumped back.

"Connie!" He exclaimed. "I will not have this! Bring Kate back, immediately!"

"Oh, you wanna play dirty, doc?" Connie smirked. "I can play dirty."

"No, _no, _Connie. Please, let me out."

"No."

"Connie, I have been_ patient_ with you, more than I should be. Let me go, now."

"Or what?" Connie laughed. "I know you wouldn't hurt me, doc, that's just not you. Besides, I just want to play."

"No, you just want to get Sonny to break up with you." Ewen retorted, pushing her out of the way and opening the door. Light filtered into the closet. "Good day, Connie."

"Wait, doc!" Connie cried. She wasn't going to let him get away that fast. Ewen was already a few long strides away, and heading towards that room again. He opened the door and peered in, and then looked back.

"What is it? I thought you were talking to someone." Connie looked into the empty room.

"They're gone." Ewen frowned, looking around the floor. "They left."

"That's too bad." Connie pretended to care. "Anyway…"

"Connie," Ewen was growing angrier by the second. "A young woman was just in a traumatic incident, I _needed_ to talk to her."

"Talk to _me." _

"I have to see Dr. Webber."

"No, Ewen-" Connie pulled the doctor back. "Steve can wait. Just hear me out, okay, doc? I need your help. _Kate_ needs your help."

Ewen's phone beeped suddenly. Taking it from his coat pocket, Ewen looked down. _Reminder. Meeting with Morgan Benson at 10:30. _

"I have to go, Connie." Ewen started towards the elevator. Connie felt her plan slipping away. Growling, she cursed and ran to catch up with the psychiatrist.

"C'mon, doc! Just one time! I won't disappoint you!" She begged as Ewen stood in the elevator, pressing buttons feverishly. Connie stood, barricading the door.

"Connie, I will _not_ be a part of your plan to take down someone Kate loves." Ewen repeated firmly.

"It's not like _you're_ with anyone!" Connie spat. Ewen pressed another button, and the doors slowly began to close in on themselves. Connie jumped out in the nick of time, before she remembered.

Elizabeth Webber.

Damn.

Everyone seemed to be happy.

Everyone was in love.

Except Connie Falconeri.

She was just pissed.

Angrily, she dialed Sonny's number and waited for a response. "Sonny," she used her best 'Kate Howard' voice. "Could you meet me in Dr. Keenan's office? I need to talk to you."

Then, she punched the 'up' button on the elevator and awaited her ride.


	21. Elevator

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-one

* * *

><p>"C'mon, open up, damn elevator." Connie Falconeri pressed the button again. Someone else must've gotten in the elevator on a different floor, and Connie wasn't waiting any longer. She was going to Ewen's office, and she was going to make him kiss her until Sonny came into the room and found them together. Then, he would leave Kate alone. That's all Connie wanted. Well, she shouldn't limit herself by any means, but freeing herself of that bastard would definitely be a start.<p>

Sure, infidelity was a pretty low way to rid Kate and Connie of Sonny Corinthos once and for all, but Connie wasn't thinking straight. Kate always got in the way. Not this time, however. This time, Connie was all in.

If the elevator would open.

Time was ticking. Ewen was floors away from her, probably calling the cops as a precaution. That guy needed to get out more. He was way too uptight for Connie's taste, but he wasn't a bad looker, either. She supposed she would have to live with the coarse characteristics.

Finally, the elevator opened. Slow, as if to warn Connie. _Proceed with caution._

Inside the elevator, slumped in a heap, was Dr. Patrick Drake.

* * *

><p>Patrick was conscious of the elevator opening. He was aware of someone standing outside, someone tapping their shoes along the tile floor. He couldn't move. Hot tears stained his face, and he angrily pushed them aside.<p>

It was his first full day back. He tried to tell himself to man up, the talk Epiphany had given him had talked some sense into his dull heart, and he decided that work was the place to be. For him and for Emma. Emma still went to school, so why shouldn't he go to work?

And then it hit him. One look at that lab door sent him into a world of panic. He knew, he _knew _that he shouldn't have gone down there. But he did. He _had_ to see. He _had_ to see the place where his wife took her last breath. And it killed him.

So, here he was. Stuck in an elevator, unable to move, unable to act normally. Taking heed in the lurch of the elevator moving up and down, up and down. He prayed to God that the person standing outside the elevator was his brother.

"Doctor?" A sweet, concerned voice spoke. He smelled strong perfume and heard the scraping of heel against floor as the woman entered the elevator. She knelt down next to him, and he realized that _she _was the one that was shaking.

"I'm sorry, doctor, did I do something to you?" There was that voice again. She sounded concerned, confused, and apologetic. "I…I'm not sure how I got here."

"What?" Patrick finally mustered enough strength to look up. Kate Howard loomed above him, dressed as unnaturally as ever. Unnatural for her, that is. "What are you-?"

"I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't mean to bother you." Kate Howard got up, nervously tugging down her short skirt as much as she could, and pressed the button to the lobby. "I think I was just leaving."

"You didn't bother me," Patrick sniffed, getting up as confidentially as he could. He wobbled a little, and the woman sent him that nervous look again. She hurriedly began pulling the loose strands of her blonde hair into a neat bun.

"You're Dr. Patrick Drake?" Kate asked while fixing her hair. Patrick nodded solemnly, watching her with a dull expression. How many days had he watched his wife put up her hair or braid Emma's hair? How many nights had he taken out the elastic that held her hair together, just to watch her beautiful, brown locks tumble down her bare shoulders? Oh, his wife had been so beautiful.

"I'm very sorry to hear what happened to your wife. This must be a horrible time for you." Kate rested a hand on his shoulder, looking at him sadly. Patrick nodded again.

_Ding._ The elevator had reached the lobby. Kate looked reluctantly at doors as the slid open.

"Are you sure you're all right, doctor?" She asked cautiously. "Do you need me to call anyone?"

"I'm…I'm fine, thank you." Patrick said gruffly, holding open the door. It was his way of telling her to leave. Kate nodded her thanks, walking past with a small look back before heading into the vast world.

* * *

><p>"You look like a mess." Morgan laughed as Ewen all but ran in to his office. Ewen muttered something unintelligent and came to sit behind his desk.<p>

"Forgive me, Morgan, I've had a busy morning." He mumbled while searching for his notepad and pen.

"Doing what?" Morgan asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ewen looked up. What a weird thing for Morgan to say, especially when ghosts were the very thing that were haunting him. Morgan knew, too, as soon as he said the words, and slid lower in his seat.

"I think you're right," Morgan whispered.

"About what?"

"Jax." Morgan sighed. "Jasper Jacks." He almost spit out the name. "He just adds to my pain."

"You grieve for the senseless death of your step-father, it's understandable." Ewen shrugged.

"But it happened so _long_ ago." Morgan groaned. "He was murdered so long ago."

"Do you want justice?" Ewen asked. "Was the murderer found?"

"It's obvious who the murderer was." Morgan grumbled. "My father."

"Sonny Corinthos," Ewen clarified, taking in a deep breath. "Yes, I've heard of him."

"Through the trial?" Morgan assumed.

"Well, that." Ewen shrugged. "He's involved with one of my patients."

"He's _involved _with Port Charles." Morgan retorted. "It's hard not to hear about him."

"You don't want to see your father?" Ewen asked. "Is it because of your step-father?"

Morgan hesitated before nodding. He knew that his father meant trouble, and that he should not get involved. "Can we not talk about Dad?" He finally asked. "I…I'm not really up to it."

"Of course," Ewen placed his elbows on his desk and rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. "Of course."

Morgan slipped lower in the seat. He wished Ewen had one of those couches, so he could fall asleep and not have to be here.

"I knew your step-father." Ewen suddenly said, his voice quiet. Morgan shot up, at first not believing what Ewen had just said.

"You knew Jax?"

"Yes," Ewen nodded. "I knew both Jasper and his brother, Jerry."

"Wow, Australia really is small." Morgan whispered, and flashed Ewen a smile. Ewen rolled his eyes at the stereotype, clicking his pen.

"Did Jax ever take you to Australia?" Ewen asked. "It's truly beautiful."

"No, no, I haven't really traveled much." Morgan shrugged. "Well, if you don't count going to my father's…uh, island."

"Island?"

"Dad has a private island." Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. "Michael and Krissy ran away once, and they went there."

"Those are your siblings, correct?"

"Right. Michael and Kristina."

"They are Sonny's children?" Ewen asked, writing down the new information.

"Well-"

The door opened suddenly, loudly, abrasively. Ewen looked up, at first looking confused, and then annoyed, and then his eyes clouded over, as if he had seen something he wished he hadn't. Morgan frowned and turned around, much to Ewen's protest.

Outside, hanging on to the doorknob in shock, was a very surprised Sonny Corinthos.


	22. Audacity

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-two

* * *

><p><strong>An: Just wanted to thank everyone for their kind reviews! Keep it up! Many have asked about the mystery of Jax's 'death'. Yes, Morgan will eventually have to know the truth, and don't worry, he will. It will just take a few more chapters :)**

* * *

><p>The three men stared at one another for a long time. Sonny stared at Morgan. Morgan stared at Sonny. Ewen looked at the both of them. Sonny slowly let his hand fall from the doorknob, limp.<p>

"Uh," he took in a breath. "I didn't know…um, you're back, son."

"I'm back." Morgan whispered. Ewen noticed that he had begun to tense up again, just like he had in their first couple of meetings, when Morgan was uptight and unresponsive.

"When?" Sonny looked down at his son. He was so different now. Stronger, taller, and something else had changed that Sonny couldn't quite put his finger on.

"A little over a week ago." Morgan answered softly. "What are you doing here, Dad?"

"Kate-" Sonny stopped himself. "Um, my…my girlfriend called. She said she'd be here."

Ewen groaned in response. Sonny looked to Dr. Keenan for help. "I haven't seen Miss Howard all morning." Ewen answered cautiously. "We don't have a session planned toady."

"Oh." Sonny frowned. "That's, uh, that's weird."

"You're dating Kate Howard?" Morgan looked up. "Isn't that Dante's cousin? Aren't some wires being crossed here?" He couldn't help how bitter he sounded. He didn't even want to look at his father.

"Nope, I think we're good—should you be asking me that?"

"Excuse me?" Morgan rounded on his dad. "Should you be asking me _anything?" _

"Keenan, I want to talk to_ you_ about my_ son!"_ Carly Jacks strode into view, her heels clacking silent messages across the tile. She took one look at Sonny standing awkwardly in the doorway and Morgan's rigid stance, fists clenched and cursed accordingly.

"Hello, ma'am." Ewen cleared his throat. He was never sure what to call her. "I appreciate you stopping by, but right now Mr. Benson and I are in the middle of-"

"You don't have to go by Morgan Benson, anymore, son." Sonny interrupted the doctor and spoke directly to his son. "You're back home. You can go by your rightful name, now."

"Excuse me?" Carly spoke for her son. "Benson _is _his rightful name. I had it changed."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did it out of the goodness of your heart, and now Morgan is _so_ much better."

"Morgan _is _better, Sonny." Carly snapped.

"Yeah, that's why he's sitting in a shrink's office, right now, right?"

"Shut up!" Morgan shot out of his seat, livid.

"_Sit down." _Carly and Sonny reprimanded at the same time.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt." Ewen cleared his throat. "If you two would like to step outside-" he gestured towards the two men. "-I will speak with Miss-"

"Carly Jacks." Carly interrupted. "Call me Carly Jacks."

"Don't you _dare _use his name!" Morgan roared. "You don't deserve that name!" His shoulders squared, he was totally defensive, now. First, his father comes in and bothers him about Ewen, and then his mother has the _audacity _to use Jax's name after she and Dad killed him. Bull.

"Mrs. Jacks?" Ewen stepped in again. Sonny held the door open a little wider and let his son outside. When the door closed, Carly sighed, cursed again, and slipped into the seat previously occupied by her son.

"Doctor, tell me what's wrong with Morgan."

* * *

><p>"Are you going to talk to your father?" Sonny leaned against the door to the room he was just removed from. His son was pacing in front of him, opening and closing his hands, which were balled up into fists. He was moving in a maniac fashion, as if he couldn't stop.<p>

"No." He stopped long enough to answer, and then continued his pattern.

"Well, you look good." Sonny changed the subject. This time, Morgan really stopped. He stared at his father long and hard. Sonny awkwardly cleared his throat. "Physically, I mean. Er, how do you feel?"

"Horrible, thanks for asking."

"Good, good." Sonny mumbled. "Glad to see you're not bitter."

"Bitter?" Morgan spat. "Kiss my ass."

Sonny raised an eyebrow.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean 'you don't know'?" Carly snapped. <em>"You're<em> the doctor; you're supposed to know my son's condition!"

"Mrs. Jacks," Ewen rubbed his temples. "I already told you the problem. I cannot properly diagnose Morgan until after the first month following the traumatic incident."

"What does that mean?" Carly frowned. "What are you even talking about?"

"I'm talking about your son, Mrs. Jacks, the one you sent off to some God-forsaken military school." Ewen was growing impatient. "I suppose Morgan has told you nothing."

"No, he's been too busy with _you."_

"He's been _busy _dealing with his trauma, Mrs. Jacks."

"What the hell does that mean, Keenan?" Carly threw up her hands. "Morgan said he loved school. He always wrote positive letters."

"He lied." Ewen muttered. "People lie, Mrs. Jacks."

"Not Morgan." Carly shook her head. "He wouldn't lie about something like school. What happened to him?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." Ewen grumbled. "Mrs. Jacks, what happened to Morgan is something you will have to discuss with him; it's not my place to spread his pain."

"I'm his mother, Keenan; I think you can spare the ethics for his mother."

"I won't. You can either find out from your son, or listen to me. Morgan experienced a traumatic event during his last few days at military school."

"Did they find out about Sonny and I?" Carly asked.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Jacks," Ewen took in a deep breath. "This isn't about you."

* * *

><p>"What's up with the attitude?" Sonny asked, concerned.<p>

"I don't have an attitude." Morgan grumbled immaturely, sitting in a chair outside the door. It was going to the principal's office, except, in this case, the principal was the only person Morgan wanted to see.

"Well, find one, and lose it."

"Shut up." Morgan groaned. "Just shut _up, _Dad. You don't have control over me anymore. You're done."

"Morgan, I don't want to argue. Dante and I are just starting to…to reconcile. Hopefully, we can too." Sonny sighed and sat down next to his son, placing an arm protectively around the young man's broad shoulders. Morgan shied away from him. A child. He was acting like a child, and he knew it.

"Dante may have forgiven you for shooting him, but don't think I'm that easy." Morgan looked his father in the eyes. "You killed Jax. I'll never forgive you for that."

* * *

><p>"Acute Stress Disorder, more often than not, leads into Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. However, I cannot diagnose Morgan until after the first month. Technically, symptoms of ASD last only for a month, and if the case is bad enough, the ASD will escalate into PTSD."<p>

"So they're the same thing." Carly assumed, listening to Ewen's words carefully. She couldn't really comprehend that her son might be one of _those_ people. Unstable. Like Shawn. But Shawn wasn't unstable, as he had tried many times to tell her, he was just like her. He had just been through more.

"Well, not entirely. ASD often gives you feelings like you are outside of your body or you don't know where you are, compared to PTSD."

"Is there a chance that Morgan won't get PTSD?" Carly asked. No, she begged.

"Yes, there is a chance." Ewen reassured her. "However, he will have to be monitored closely for the next few months. Even if he does not have PTSD now, he is still susceptible to developing the disorder later on."

Carly sighed, rubbing her temples. She didn't want to think of her precious son like this. She had put him into military school to get away from all the danger, and now _this?_ She had managed to put him in even greater danger than she ever imagined.

"All right, doctor, I think-"

A loud bang caught both of their attention. Muffled yells could be heard from outside.

"What the hell?" Carly stood up, and Ewen was already at the door, fearing the worst.

He feared wisely.

Morgan, in blind, uncalled for rage, had pushed Sonny against the wall, beyond livid. Sonny had a good grip on his son as well, holding him back so that they were both safe. Carly began to scream at Sonny, who yelled back at her. Morgan was still yelling at his father, and rounded on his mother as soon as she appeared.

Ewen watched the encounter from the doorway. This family, he couldn't believe all the drama that surrounded their lives. Morgan was succumbed to this every day? And what of Morgan's siblings and family? Did everyone yell and fight all the time? Perhaps it was just a New York thing.

"Morgan," Ewen started quietly. "Morgan, _stop."_

Morgan suddenly became conscious of his surroundings. His breathing hitched, and he instantly released his father. The hand he used to grip his mother's arm fell to his side limply. He stared at his two parents, eyes wide. They looked back at him in a mixture of shock and horror. Slowly, all three turned to Ewen for guidance.

"H-he made me angry…I didn't…" Morgan faltered. "I didn't know what I was doing, Ewen. I...I just…"

"It's all right, Morgan." Ewen assured him softly. "Things like this are common and understandable. Your father must have said the wrong thing." He sent Sonny a pointed look. "Come. We still have a session to complete."

"N-no, I can't…I don't want to talk." Moran shook his head, backing up. "I should go."

"No, you're not driving in this state." Carly said firmly. "I'll take you home."

"Mom," Morgan begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, Morgan. I won't have it. You're coming home with me. We need to talk about some things." Carly grabbed her son by the arm and wheeled him out of the grasp of his father. Morgan turned around long enough to look back at Ewen, who couldn't even muster a wave in response.

Finally, the two men stood alone.

"Thank you, doctor." Sonny started, clearing his throat. "And, if you hear from Kate-"

"Sonny, why don't you come into my office?" Ewen started, his voice rigid. "We need to talk about Morgan."


	23. Sports

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-three

* * *

><p>That same afternoon, Morgan Benson knocked on the door of Alexis Davis.<p>

He had allowed his mother to drive him home. He had allowed his mother to talk to him, but he never gave anything too personal up for grabs. He took Joss out of her crib, and loved on her for a little, reading her a book and whispering comforting words to her when she started to cry. It was almost as if he was reassuring himself.

He knocked again, leaning against the door and sighing. He thought he was done with all this anger crap. He thought Ewen was supposed to help him. Ah, he knew Ewen wasn't to blame. He knew exactly what had set him off.

"Morgan, how can I help you?" Alexis opened the door. She looked busy, a pen lodged into her hand. Morgan could see paperwork on the coffee table ahead.

"Is Molly here?" He asked, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans. Alexis nodded and let him in. He mumbled his thanks and headed towards the familiar room he had walked in so many times.

"Morgan," Alexis started a little hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"For one, Molly took Kristina's room. And second, I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks," Morgan nodded. "I'm…I'm glad I'm back, too." He braved a smile and headed into the room, where he could hear muffled voices and a certain cousin of his giggling.

"Morgan!" Molly jumped up as soon as Morgan opened her door. She wrapped him in a hug, and he swung her around. Seeing her always made him happy. Hanging out with Molly made him forget. When he set her down he noticed T.J., standing awkwardly behind the two cousins.

"Hello again," Morgan cleared his throat, his arm still slung around Molly's shoulders. T.J. nodded in response, awkwardly grabbing his books.

"I should go," he mumbled.

"I never thought I'd hear those words," Alexis appeared at the doorway, eager for the troublemaker to leave. T.J. caught Morgan's gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Sorry, Ms. Davis." He zipped his backpack shut and slung it over his shoulder.

"Although at one point T.J. was not allowed anywhere near my daughter, we have decided his education is more vital than my own stubbornness." Alexis explained half-heartedly to Morgan, who absorbed the information, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. "However, take note: he only comes over when _I'm _supervising."

"Thanks for the audiobooks, Molly." T.J. interrupted the soon-to-be-lecture and spoke gratefully to his tutor. "Those books are really…I mean, I like them." He looked sheepish.

"Of course!" Molly squealed. _"See_, Mom? I told you, no one can resist Agatha Christie!"

"That's nice, honey." Alexis's tone dripped with sarcasm. "I'm sure he's scrambling to read all those Hercule Poirot stories, so he better get going, right?"

"Right." T.J. nodded, and, in an effort to save his manhood, turned to Morgan. "Hey man, maybe you, me and Michael could should some hoops later?"

Morgan stared at him. He blinked. He didn't know what to say. This was the first time since returning to Port Charles that he had been invited to do something…recreational.

_Wow, Morgan, big whoop. Just accept the challenge. _

_Challenge? This wasn't a challenge, this was an invitation. _

_Look, the kid wants to play a game with you, just say yes. _

_What if something happens? What if something sets me off again? _

_What the hell is wrong with you, man? Just say yes. He's waiting. _

"Are you okay, Morgan?" Molly tugged on her cousin's sleeve. He had since gone quiet, rubbing his temples with a strong hand. His eyes opened at her voice, as if on command. He noticed the three people looking at him and flushed.

"Yeah, man, that sounds great." He answered T.J. quickly. The teenager nodded cautiously.

"See you around, then…" he said a little cautiously, brushing past the family and out the door.

"Morgan? Are you all right?" Alexis helped the young man as he sat down on Molly's bed. He nodded, brushing her off.

"Yeah, no, uh, it's just this headache." He muttered. "Don't worry about it."

"You sure?" Alexis asked again, for she wasn't sure herself. Morgan nodded again, smiling bravely at her. Slowly, Alexis relented, feeling his forehead. He didn't feel sick, but looked a little pale. She gave Molly a look, as if to tell her daughter to keep an eye on Morgan.

"All right, I'll be outside if you guys need me." She kissed the top of Molly's head before exiting the room.

When the door closed, Molly cocked her head to the side. "Are you sure y-?"

"I'm fine, Molly, really." Morgan stretched out on the small bed. "Don't worry about it."

"Did you get hit in the head at military school?" Molly asked. Morgan laughed and shook his head, pressing his palms to his face for a few moments before inhaling and sitting up. He patted the mattress next to him and Molly scurried over and sat down, swinging her feet casually as she told her cousin of her days at school, summaries of all the books she had piled on her nightstand and surrounding it, how Kristina was enjoying herself at Yale, and how Michael was enrolled in PCU. College seemed like a whole different world to her, a milestone so far away. But it wasn't far away, and Morgan knew it. Change was always lurking in the corner.

"I'm glad that you and T.J. are friends, he's been trying to find new friends to hang out with." Molly admitted. "Apparently the boys at our school aren't that good at basketball."

"I wouldn't say that we're _friends," _Morgan stressed. "We're just going to hang out. I don't even know when, and it's with Michael."

"Still," Molly shrugged. "It counts."

"In your eyes only." Morgan scoffed.

"So, Morgan, why _did _you come over?" Molly changed the subject, looking up at her taller relative. "Did you know that T.J. was here?"

"What? No, no, I...I just wanted to talk." Morgan shifted uncomfortably.

"About what?"

"It doesn't matter," Morgan shrugged. "I forgot, anyway." Lie. He was going to tell her everything, he really thought he was going to get all the guilt and stress off of his chest, but he couldn't. The thought of his past and all that had happened only dug him deeper into the hole he called his life. That one night in his life had plagued him, and now, he could never let go. If he did, he would fall into oblivion.

His phone rang accordingly, pulling Morgan out of his thoughts and back into reality. Molly was staring at him again, concerned. He cleared his throat, pressing _talk_ without looking at the ID.

"Hello?"

"Morgan?" To his great relief, Dante was on the other end. "Morgan, hey, it's Dante."

"Hey, Dante." Morgan got up, rubbing his forehead and sighing. Molly instantly lit up, tugging on Morgan's strong arm and mouthing to him to say hello to Dante for her. He playfully pushed her back down on the bed and adjusted the phone in his hand. "What's up?"

"You feel better?" Dante asked, ignoring his brother's question.

"Sort of," Morgan confessed. "Why?"

"Why?" Dante repeated. "Because you're my little brother, and I want to know how you're doing."

"Dante…" Morgan did not wish to be reminded of those nights at the hospital again.

"No, listen, man. You, me, and Lulu. Yankee Stadium. This Saturday. Whadya say?"

"Really?" Morgan couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, Ronnie got us these tickets a while back, but he can't make it. Busy with...whatever he does on the weekends. Anyway, we got an extra ticket. Wanna come?"


	24. Lifeguard

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-four

* * *

><p>For the first time since graduating, Morgan was beginning to feel like himself again. He had a schedule finally; he woke up and had things to do. He no longer felt like he was spinning out of control.<p>

Unless of course, he heard a particularly loud noise or pulled out his baseball card again.

Speaking of baseball, he was going to a game with Dante and Lulu in a couple of hours, and Morgan could not even begin to explain his excitement. He and Vinny had lived for baseball, catching every game they could. Mets, Yankees, whoever was on. Whereas other cadets bonded over football, basketball, and even golf, Morgan and Vinny led the small group engrossed in the world that is baseball. The American past-time.

Ah, maybe he was a little too attached to the game. He and Dante had grown close over the game when his oldest brother was still known to Port Charles as Dominic Pirelli. Morgan had unsuccessfully tried to teach Jax about the sport, and Michael had always been eager to throw around stats. Vinny had secretly loved the feel of the baseball bat, although he never made any of the little league teams set up in his hometown. Sonny had played when he was young, or so he had heard from Olivia, who had been on the all boy's team herself. Hell, maybe, when he was older, he'd meet some girl who loved baseball as much as he did.

Maybe baseball was just an excuse for Morgan to forget about the real world, and focus on ball hitting bat, ball finding glove, fan receiving ball. He could lose himself for those few hours when the only thing that mattered was getting that strikeout.

Morgan pulled his phone out of it's charger and checked it.

_T.J.: We still shootin hoops later?_

Morgan smiled. Basketball was a different sport entirely, but he was glad that he was being included. It wasn't as if he technically _desired_ to play basketball with a fourteen year-old kid, but he appreciated the thought.

_Later, _he texted back and grabbed his Jorge Posada jersey from his bed, slipping it over his white, cotton tee. Jorge had been Vinny's favorite player, and Morgan was sad to see him retire. He was also sad when Vinny died. Funny how those things worked out, he mused.

* * *

><p>"<em>What do I do now?" Morgan spoke quietly to Colonel Blair, who sat rigidly on the edge of Morgan's cot. All the other cadets were awake, outside, and alert. Morgan couldn't even get out of bed. The events of last night had plagued him. It was like he was chained down and couldn't break free. When he closed his eyes, he saw the blood, heard the sound of the gun, smelled the smoke, tasted terror, and felt that gripping fear. When his eyes opened, he was reminded of the empty cot rows away from him, and the gun. That damn gun. One bullet missing.<em>

_Colonel Blair had gone into the dorms, and Morgan was sure he was going to get yelled at him. However, Blair did not. He walked over to the occupied mattress, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He cursed accordingly, sighed, and cleared his throat. _

"_You getting up?" He asked for the second time, ignoring Morgan's question. Morgan did not move. Like before, he was chained. _

"_What am I supposed to do without my best friend?" Morgan choked back unnecessary, unwanted tears. He looked over at his instructor, who sat with perfect posture and control, his uniform neatly pressed. Morgan saw the glint of ribbon adorning his uniform. People like Colonel Blair didn't cry. _

"_Well," Blair took in a deep breath and weighed his options, having no experience dealing with things of this matter. "I suppose you'll have to get up." _

_Morgan groaned again, but struggled into a sitting position, fighting against those chains. _

"_And then, I would take a shower. I would get into that uniform of yours; the one Vince can't change into anymore. And I would go out with your other cadets and work out. It's a new day, cadet; it's time to move on." _

"_Move on?" Morgan stood up shakily, desperately reaching towards his uniform. He wanted the order in his life to return. "How-?"_

"_No, Cadet." Colonel Blair interrupted. "Don't ask. Just do." He stared at Morgan hard until the young man nodded, overwrought with grief. Very slowly, Morgan Benson slunk back onto his cot and broke down._

* * *

><p>Before going to the game, Morgan stopped by the harbor. He wanted to admire the water, to take head in the serenity of Port Charles. Which was an oxymoron, he knew.<p>

Taking a seat on the bench, Morgan rubbed his hands together and sighed. His step-father, Jax, had loved the water, which was natural, coming from Australia. Jax always wanted to take him, Carly, Michael, and Joss back to Australia for vacation. You know, trips families went on. When they were a family.

Morgan loved the feeling when Jax would take him with him on his private plane, and the two would fly over the water. He would look down at the quiet, tumbling waves and smile. It was the best feeling in the world, being above the world like that.

He looked out onto the docks, searching for Jax's boat. The _Silent Lady_, named jokingly after Carly. His mother had told him that she had sold the ship after Jax's death, much to Morgan's disappointment. He wished he would have had another chance to take the craft out for a ride.

Counting the boats one by one, Morgan came across all the different names. All of them had different meanings, he knew, and were special only to the person who drove the boat. _Her Idea; _Morgan laughed, that was a good one. _Gone Fishing. Can't Swim. Lifeguard. Fishing Babe. Silent Lady. _

_Silent Lady. _

No, that was impossible. The boat had been sold, Mom said so. Morgan stood up fast, squinting against the sun. Sure enough, further away from the other floating boats, another vessel roared against the water. Words branded the side. _Silent Lady. _

Morgan knew without knowing. He knew Jax was on that boat. It had to be, who else would have the ship? Who else would know how to ride the waves so well? Definitely Australian.

Unconsciously, Morgan moved closer to the edge of the wood, until his tennis shoes poked over the edge, hovering above water. He was shaking. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, he wanted to get the driver's attention.

The boat started to go away, until it was barely a thought in the vast sea. Morgan began to panic, stepping forward.

"Whoa, buddy!" Dante Falconeri stopped his younger brother from falling into the water. "Watch out!"

"D-Dante," Morgan faltered, grabbing hold of his brother's arm that was draped protectively around his chest. "I…"

"Dante, we better get going." Lulu interrupted her brother-in-law. "We want to get there early."

"You okay, man?" Dante looked at Morgan, who was still trembling in shock. Morgan nodded slowly, releasing his grip on his brother's arm. Dante instantly cringed.

"You're a lot stronger than before, bud." He rubbed his arm, but managed to smile at his brother. "That's gonna bruise." He chuckled.

"Sorry," Morgan said apologetically.

"You kiddin'?" Dante scoffed. "I'm glad. You can defend yourself." He laughed again. He was always so lighthearted. Morgan remembered when Dante—Dominic—first came to Port Charles, and he was the biggest goofball you could imagine, always cracking a joke. The drama wore him down. He was a veteran of the police force, Port Charles...life.

Morgan understood. More than Dante or Lulu could ever imagine.


	25. Night

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-five

* * *

><p>Going to the docks had become some sort of habit for Morgan. Ever since seeing the glimpse of the <em>Silent Lady<em>, Morgan wanted proof. He wanted to make sure this wasn't just a fantasy, that he wasn't just making stuff up.

For all he knew, Jasper Jacks was alive.

And so, every day, Morgan trailed over to the harbor, hoping and begging that the vessel carrying his hope returned.

* * *

><p>By the fourth day, Morgan wasn't having much luck. He had skipped a session with Ewen to go and search the waters, and he was sure that the doctor would be calling him soon. Morgan didn't know what he would say.<p>

_Sorry, I'm searching for a dead man. _

_Ewen wouldn't understand. _

_Ewen's paid to understand. _

_Shut up! _

Morgan stopped walking long enough to sigh.

Vinny.

Vinny kept talking to him.

_This is why you should see your doctor. _

Vinny had died, but he now haunted Morgan more than he could ever imagine. Vinny was Morgan's conscience, now. Every time he thought, Vinny's voice answered his. It was a never ending cycle, this disorder. Acute Stress Disorder. Not that Morgan accepted that he really had this disease—this mental illness. Putting a name onto this hell somehow lessened his pain.

And even if Morgan _was_ with Ewen, what would the doctor say? This will all go away soon? Tough it out?

No, Ewen wouldn't say things like that. And maybe, maybe he did understand.

Arriving on the docks, now, Morgan caught a glimpse of his mother and baby sister, sitting on a bench and staring out across the waters. Morgan's heart began to beat faster when he heard his sister's voice. He hadn't seen Josslynn in days, it had been too long.

"Mom," Morgan stepped into view, if not a little sheepishly.

"Morgan!" Carly beamed and beckoned her son over. "How are you, honey?"

"Fine," Morgan sat down and let his mother kiss him.

"Fine? You sure?" Carly placed an arm around him protectively, gently rocking Josslynn's stroller with her bare foot, her heels askew. "No memories today?"

"What?" Morgan frowned, shaking his head. "What do you mean, 'today'? That's not how this…_thing _works, Mom."

"Technically, you haven't been diagnosed." Carly answered a little quickly, almost like she was still betting on her son's well-being.

"Yeah, but I'm going to be." Morgan answered.

"Well, just be glad that…whatever you have...was caught early. Maybe, now, we can have some peace of mind."

"Would that make you feel better?" Morgan answered a little harshly. "Could you go back to your life, then? Because I can't go back to mine."

"This is your life, _now,_ Morgan. Embrace what you have." Carly responded firmly, grabbing a hold of her son's hand. "You're going to get through this."

"Oh, yeah?" Morgan nearly whimpered. It disgusted him. "And what if I don't? What if I wake up one day and can't bare the sight of myself, what if I wake up and don't want to live anymore? What if-"

"Morgan, please, you're shaking, babe." Carly gently rocked her son, as he put his head in his hands. He was a grown man, now; he didn't want to have to be comforted by his mother. He wanted to prove his dignity, his pride; he wanted to be like everyone else, that's all he wanted.

"Baby, you've got to tell me what happened to make you like this, to make you so broken. Morgan, please."

"I…I can't, Mom." Morgan sighed shakily. "I just can't. I won't be able t-to get through it."

Carly was silent. She picked up her daughter, Josslynn, now asleep, and gently held her in her arms. Morgan reached out a trembling hand and rubbed a finger along Josslynn's soft arm, feeling her delicate skin.

"At least tell me what it's like." Carly asked next. "I want to know what you're going through."

Morgan had not been asked this before. Shawn, a former marine suffering with PTSD, already knew what Morgan could potentially be going through, and Ewen was a doctor; of course he knew. This question from his mother, a mere onlooker on the black hole surrounding his life, caught him off guard, and startled him. Nevertheless, he battled on.

"It's like…every time I go to sleep I know I'm going to have these, these _horrible _nightmares about that night."

"That night...when it happened." Carly spoke vaguely, for she had no idea what really happened to make her son so damaged. Morgan nodded numbly.

"And I can't sleep because when I do, I remember. So I get up. I try to go for a run, I try to exercise, but every little thing reminds me of that _night,_ and I become so weak I can hardly s-stand, and so I have to stop a-and I don't know what to do anymore…and I'll try to get ready for the day but all I think about is-"

"What happened?"

"Yes, _yes, _and whenever someone screams, or a door is slammed it starts all over again for me. Yesterday, a-at Kelly's, someone dropped a plate. I…I got so scared, Mom. I had to go back to my room before I had a…I don't know, some kind of breakdown. I couldn't stop shaking, and I knew even Shawn wouldn't be able to help me and-"

"Shawn?" Carly stopped her son. "How come I keep hearing about Shawn?"

"Mom," Morgan started slowly. "He's the only one who understands what I'm going through."

"You don't have PTSD, Morgan, you're _not_ sick."

"ASD, PTSD, what's the difference, Mom? I'm _traumatized_."

"Oh, my gosh," Carly sighed, her head bowed. "I wish I never sent you to that freaking school. I wish that-"

"What's done is done, Mom. This is my life, now, remember what you said?" Morgan reassured her. "I'll be okay, Mom."

"Oh, but, baby, everything is different." Carly wiped a stray tear from her eye. "You look at me differently; I can see it in your eyes. I'm not that same person to you as I was before."

Morgan was silent. How come his mother always knew what was on his mind? He didn't want to tell the truth. He didn't want to tell her that she was right, that it would take a long time before Morgan could ever trust her again. He wanted to forgive her, he wanted to let go with all of his heart, but he was chained. Vinny had him chained. He was so angry at his mother for sending him away, angry beyond words that she couldn't have kept him around. He knew all this anger was part of his disorder, or so Ewen had explained. He didn't want to lash out at his mother, but he was afraid that if he was around her too much, he would do something he regretted.

"Why don't you come over for dinner?" Carly suggested. "You, me, Michael and Joss, just like old times?"

Old times. Oh, how Morgan wanted those times back.


	26. Alive

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-six

* * *

><p>Sunday morning. Sunday morning meant no work. Sunday morning meant possibly making mass with his mother. Sunday morning meant relaxation. Dante Falconeri liked to relax. He rolled over in his sleep and found himself pressed to his sleeping wife's back. Taking in her intoxicating scent and soft, blonde hair, Dante settled deeper into his slumber.<p>

Further away from their quaint bed lay a discarded New York Yankee jersey, 'Rivera' branded onto the back proudly. The sport shirt had recently been worn when the Dante, Lulu, and Morgan Benson headed over to Yankee Stadium to catch a game. _Catch a game._ Dante liked that, it sounded so casual. The couple enjoyed the game, especially Dante, but Morgan had seemed a little distracted the entire time. He kept looking down at his lucky baseball card or a fuzzy picture on his phone. When Lulu asked what the picture was, Morgan had awkwardly stuffed his phone back into his pocket, mumbling something about a boat. The pair hadn't thought anything of it.

In fact, the Falconeris were a little ill-informed. They were unaware of Morgan's impending clash with the past. Dante knew that Morgan definitely had some bad times at military school, because he had walked into the hospital the day Morgan had to get his hand stitched, but he hadn't thought the incident was ghastly enough to worry about. He hardly mentioned what had happened to his wife. Honestly, if someone were to tell Dante that Morgan might possibly be suffering from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, he would have laughed.

He was about to laugh.

Incessant, imminent ringing caught the attention of Dante Falconeri first, who had been lightly dozing for the past few hours. Not wanting to disrupt his wife as she slept so peacefully, he reached over to the phone on his nightstand and grabbed it, pushing back the covers and walking into the kitchen.

"Dante?" A voice started on the other end. The tone was quiet, as if not to wake Lulu.

"Michael, hey." Dante greeted his brother. "How's it going?"

"Oh, uh, well, _I'm_ fine. I was calling about Morgan."

"How is he?" Dante leaned against the cool countertop; the phone pressed to his ear tightly, as if perhaps, if he held on tight enough, he could reach out and be next to his brothers.

"I…I'm worried about him, Dante." Michael admitted with a sigh. "I think he really has this disorder."

"Disorder?" Dante said a little loudly, instantly troubled. "Michael," he lowered his voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Acute Stress Disorder." Each word was said with a corresponding weight. The name sounded so heavy, so foreign and strange to the brothers. No. Not their brother. Not Morgan Corinthos. Not Morgan Benson.

"B-but…what the hell is that?" Dante faltered. "What is that?"

"Well, it usually leads to Posttraumatic Stress Disorder." Michael whispered. "I think…I think Morgan has Posttraumatic Stress Disorder."

"What the hell are you—from _school?"_ Dante turned from confused to accusing. "Did he get it from that damn school?"

No response.

"What happened at school, Michael?" Dante asked slowly. "What did they do to him at that school?"

"I don't think _they _did _anything_ to him," Michael started. "I think someone else did something to himself. I'm afraid that Morgan got in the way."

* * *

><p><em>Sunday nights. Sunday nights are for thinking. <em>Morgan wrote in an old notebook, one of the many he had written in everyday since he was put into Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy. He sat by the harbor once again. Once again he looked for the _Silent Lady_. Once again he came up empty.

He wished he could tell himself to stop. _Jax was dead. Get over it._ But he couldn't. He had come too far to be let down again.

"I thought I'd find you here." Michael Corinthos smiled softly at his younger brother. Morgan placed his small pad of paper back into his jacket pocket, along with his stub of a pencil and baseball card. Often, he would draw his baseball card. He knew it was a waste of time and paper, but drawing so detailed took effort and concentration. He would get swept away with his drawings, so much so that he would forget everything else.

Morgan had showed Ewen his drawings before. An artist himself, Ewen encouraged Morgan to keep up the 'good work'. But Morgan was neither motivated nor inspired to continue such hobbies. He didn't care about much anymore.

"What are you doing here?" Morgan cleared his throat and stood, quickly and unemotionally hugging his brother. He pulled back hastily before awkwardly sitting again. He didn't want to get attached to anything as closely as he had been attached to Vinny. They truly had been the best of friends.

"I was just going to ask you that," Michael sat next to his brother casually. Morgan envied how calm he was. "What's going on?"

Morgan pulled out his notebook again, one of the many he had filled over the years. "Have you seen this boat before?" He asked his older brother, who peered at the sketch.

"This is nice," he muttered.

"Have you seen the boat?" Morgan pressed, a little harshly. Michael frowned and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, it's Jax's boat, buddy."

"It's not here, though."

"Obviously."

"Somebody took the ship away."

"I think you know who took the boat, Morgan." Michael raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Would you stop asking me that?" Morgan yelled, jumping up instantly. He cursed. He kicked the bench. There was this anger again. This freaking anger that controlled his whole being. Now, he was yelling at his precious family.

"Damn it!" He yelled, angry with himself and Michael and Vinny and Jax and Sonny and Carly and Colonel Blair and Frank and Paul and all of freaking Port Charles. "Michael, just…just stop _asking _me that, got it? I'm _not_ fine."

"Dude," Michael stood up, speaking just as loudly. "Calm down. You're acting crazy."

"I _am _crazy!" Morgan threw up his hands; he felt the redundant tears welling up. "I'm _crazy_, Michael; you heard what Ewen said. I'm the crazy _idiot_ who can't let a simple…thing go. I can't let one freaking memory out of my head and I'm losing _everything, _Michael_. _I yell at Mom—you were at dinner last night—I can't even look at Dad, Jax-"

"Would you shut up about Jax?" Michael exclaimed. "Jax this, Jax that, what's the big deal?"

"_Because he's dead!" _ Morgan screamed. With a powerful lunge, he pushed his brother down. "He's dead, damn it! _You don't even care, _do you?"

"Dead?" Michael howled, sprawled awkwardly on the ground. "Who the hell—where are you getting that?"

Morgan stopped. Truly, he froze. Slowly, he swallowed the growing lump in his throat and wiped his eyes. His chest heaved up and down, up and down. With rigid movements, he turned towards his brother again.

"Jax is dead," he whispered. "You said-"

"Morgan," Michael got up again, brushing off his pants. A soft smile began to play on his lips. He began to walk closer to Morgan, but his brother stepped back, still bewildered.

Gradually, Michael shook his head, achingly tender. He shook his head and didn't stop until Morgan understood what he was saying. Until Morgan understood the truth about Jasper Jacks. Sonny Corinthos did not murder Jasper Jacks. Jasper Jacks was not slaughtered that night while he flew away. Jasper Jacks lived.

And now, with this news told in the simplest of ways, Morgan was more determined than ever to find that damn boat.


	27. Bounce

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-seven

* * *

><p><em>You're a coward. I trusted you, Vinny Triste. I trusted you to be my best friend and you went ahead and had to-<em>

Knock.

_And now, look what you've done. I can barely stand the sight of myself. All I think about is how you-_

Knock. "You ready, man?"

_Some days I can barely breathe, Vinny. _

"Mor-"

"Ready." Morgan few open the door to his apartment, dressed casually in basketball shorts and a Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy tee. Standing on the other side of the door was one of Morgan's older brothers, Michael Corinthos.

Tonight, Morgan was going to have fun. He was going to enjoy himself. Even if he had to play basketball in the dark.

"Hey man, where're we going?" Morgan trailed behind Michael, as the two headed towards their respective cars.

"Ah, man, it's some place near the city." Michael ran a hand through his hair. "Here, I'll write down the directions. You gotta pen?"

* * *

><p>Morgan and Michael arrived roughly at the same time in a dark park. Another truck was already parked, and a very bored Shawn Butler leaned against the bed of the truck. T.J. Ashford was already warming up, barely visible, the only sounds visible from the basketball hitting the street. Bounce. Bounce. Shoot. Bounce bounce. Shoot.<p>

The two brothers looked skeptically at the dingy hoop and shrugged at each other.

"Hey, man." Michael came into view. "How're you doing?"

"Michael, hey." T.J. stopped dribbling enough to slap Michael's hand, and then Morgan's. Both siblings greeted Shawn; Michael's salutations a little more cordial, and Morgan's a little more casual. Shawn nodded back at them, but didn't say much. He never said much. Instead, he stared openly into the night sky, head slightly tipped up, as if to soak in the stars blinking above. Morgan wondered what he was thinking about. He wondered if Shawn, too, could hardly stand the sight of himself. He wondered if all Shawn thought about was his time in Afghanistan. Morgan wasn't sure what happened while Shawn was serving, but he didn't want to know.

"So," T.J. dribbled the ball casually, legs spread apart, hands moving softly, transferring the ball from right to left routinely. "You two against me?"

"Two _adults_ against a _child?"_ Michael teased. "Seems a little unfair."

"Don't worry. The only thing unfair about this game is that you don't have more players on your team." T.J. promised, and was off.

His footing was incredibly swift. He would ease towards Morgan, as if to act like the ball was in grasp. Morgan would advance, Michael not far behind. Dribble. Dribble. Swipe. The ball was T.J.'s again. The ball _belonged_ to T.J.

The air filled with the muffled curses escaping from Michael's mouth when T.J. scored time and time again, the stench of their sweat, and pure adrenaline.

And what a game it was becoming.

All three were competitive, and didn't want to lose. Michael seemed to forget whose side he was on, and, eventually, the sport became one-on-one-on-one. Shawn had long since stopped keeping score, if he ever even started.

* * *

><p>"Fourth quarter," T.J. gasped between ragged breaths, shooting and scoring, the ball slipping past Morgan's outstretched hand. Morgan slapped his hands together in frustration. This kid was good, dammit.<p>

Michael was thinking the same thing. Lucky for Michael, he was the tallest player. Morgan grabbed the ball, dribbling quickly. T.J. and Michael were advancing. He turned his back to them quickly, but, with a swipe, Michael had the ball. He all but pushed T.J. out of the way and advanced to the one and only hoop. With a great extension of his legs, he shot.

The sound of the basketball hitting the rim right above the hoop was so loud that Morgan stopped in his tracks. The ball had hit the backboard just like the bullet had hit Vinny.

_Oh, no. No, _no,_ please. Not now. _

This horrid, weighted feeling formed in Morgan's gut, and he bent down, like he was catching his breath. That wasn't true. He couldn't even breathe.

_Get up, Morgan. _

Morgan let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. Bad idea. Images of a bloodied and frightened Vinny ran through his mind as quickly as his eyelids fluttered shut. He opened his eyes instantly.

And there was Vinny.

He was standing before him. Dressed in the same shorts Morgan wore; the same shoes. Vinny's hair was the same dirty mop it was before, his features resembling those of a child. That's all Vinny was. A child. Upon his bare chest, blood seeped through a hole near the top of his protruding rib cage. Morgan forgot how frail Vinny had become his last few days. He hadn't wanted to remember.

_Are you going to play, Morgan? _

"Morgan?" Michael repeated, bending down to be level with his brother as he slumped over. Morgan tried to shake the ragged thoughts out of his head, but wherever Michael was, so was Vinny. Wherever T.J. was, so was Vinny. Vinny sat with Shawn. Vinny was breathing down Morgan's neck.

"I'm fine," Morgan gasped. "I'm fine. Let's go." He opened his hands and T.J. passed him the ball. And so, the game began again.

With one extra player.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. T.J. took the ball from Morgan time and time again. Although Michael had since branched out into his own team, he still flinched whenever the ball was stolen from his little brother. Morgan supposed he was mad; that last time Morgan and Michael played together Morgan had actually played well, not the crap he was pulling tonight. He was obviously the weakest link.

The ball rolled its way back to Morgan again, and he picked it up, dribbling slowly. The hoop was closer than he thought, it wouldn't take much for him to take a shot right where he was standing.

_All right, then. Swing. _

Except that someone was in his way.

_I'm not moving. That's your job. _

Morgan advanced cautiously, and in a second T.J. flanked his side, eager, perspiring hands reaching for the sphere. Michael stood in front of him, hands raised high. Not even Michael could block out the figure standing eerily behind him.

Vinny walked how Morgan had once walked. The ease and confidence of one in the armed forces; shoulders back, arms out, head high. When you walked like a soldier, people didn't bother you. They let you past. They knew you were on a mission. Now, Morgan walked with his head down, his shoulder invariably slumped, his hands ringing together. What a change. What a life.

_Jealous, huh? If only you had my life. Then you really would've known the hell I went through. You really would've known why I'm the lucky one, now. I'm dead. You're still living. __Your move._

"All right, I can't handle this anymore." From behind the players, Shawn Butler rose from his perch, shaking his strong arms out to get warmed up. "I'm in."

Michael could see a soft smile begin to play on T.J.'s lips, but it was quickly hidden by his panting breaths. Shawn patted the young man's shoulders, chuckling.

"Morgan needs all the help he can get."

The three looked over at Morgan, who was tying his shoes. He seemed to be deep in concentration.

"He's not usually like this," Michael explained for his own sake. "He's a fierce competitor."

"I can tell." Shawn nodded. "Thankfully, he won't be losing anymore."

"Is that so?" Michael and T.J. laughed, the ball tucked protectively under T.J.'s arm.

"Let's do this: Morgan and I on a team and you and Michael on the other." T.J. suggested. The other two seemed fine with the idea.

"So, do Michael and I get a trophy when we win?" Shawn teased.

"We'll see about that, Butler." T.J. began to dribble. "As soon as Benson's done, we're back in the game. And _I _was winning, last time I checked."

"Who was keeping score?" Shawn playfully pushed T.J., and then turned to Morgan, who was still tying his shoes. "Morgan, you ready?" He asked. Only Morgan could detect the hesitation and caution in his voice. Morgan nodded and rose shakily. He stared at Vinny hard.

_Don't do anything stupid._ He begged. Vinny uncrossed his arms and showed Morgan the bullet hole again. Blood trailed up and down his arms where they had been covering the wound.

_I already shot myself. _

"Break!" T.J. yelled, and began to fly across the slab of cement like it was actually the court. With a teammate, finally, T.J. was able to let up a little. Like Michael said, Morgan _was _a fierce competitor. Something else seemed to be propelling him this unofficial second half. He would run, faster than the others, his steps disciplined and sharp, before stopping all of a sudden. He would awkwardly try to recover with some sort of off-center pass to T.J., which was usually intercepted by Shawn or Michael. It was like he was inside an invisible box of sorts, and he kept running into the wall.

Shawn dunked, and his weight nearly brought down the whole hoop. Michael laughed—he was actually enjoying himself. He didn't have to think of Shawn as anything more than a teammate. Besides, it was clear that Michael's mother wasn't interested in Shawn anymore. Michael was almost a little disappointed, any man was better for his mother than the man she was sleeping with now.

_Hey, look at you. You're having fun. You haven't thought of me in…oh, a few minutes. __This should get you to remember me, again. __Look at me._

"Morgan!" T.J. stole the ball from Shawn in an unexpected move and threw with all his might across the court to Morgan. Uncalculated? Yes. A wrong move? Definitely. Acceptable on court? Negative. Accurate? Nope.

The ball took a wild course and missed Morgan by an inch. He wasn't paying attention, too wrapped up in his hallucinations. Behind him, Michael received the blunt force of basketball hitting gut.

In front of Michael, Morgan fell to the ground; eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted. He was grabbing at his chest, as if _he_ were the one that had been hit, when really; Michael was the only one who was supposed to be grimacing. And he was, rest assured.

"Shit, man." Michael groaned. "Good throw."

"Sorry, Mike." T.J. looked sheepish. "That was supposed to go to Morgan."

Shawn Butler was next to Morgan in an instant. He had no idea what was happening to the poor man, but if it had something to do with what Shawn was guessing, he was hoping he could help.

"Morgan," Shawn whispered. "Morgan, tell me what's going on."

Morgan let out an unnatural sound; someone between a curse and a cry.

"Morgan-"

"It feels like…" Morgan panted, trembled, and struggled. "Damn." He grabbed near his heart. "Damn. Damn. It feels like I..." It felt like he had been shot. It felt like he had been shot right where Vinny put a bullet in himself. He sat up immediately, a manic expression rippling across his face. In front of him, T.J. and Michael inched closer. Shawn shooed them away before helping Morgan sit up, but the young man pushed him aside.

"Morgan," Shawn hesitated. "You ca't run away forever, you know."

Morgan got into his jeep and drove.

* * *

><p>The harbor. That's the only place Morgan wanted to go to. He felt so drawn to the docks, so drawn to the boats and the water. He wished he could pilot Jax's plane above the waters and just look down at the cascading waves. That's all he wanted.<p>

Instead, he was suffering from Acute Stress Disorder, with psychosomatic side effects, along with under-controlled anger and a freaking messed-up family.

Hot tears rolled down his face, and he did nothing to hide them this time. His shaking hands could not reach his face.

Vinny had never come so vividly to him before. He had never taunted him so much. The real Vinny Triste would never have said any of those things to him. He never would have caused Vinny so much pain.

But he had. He was.

Morgan was so tired. He. Was. So. Tired. Fed up. Exhausted. Done. He wished he never had gone to that school. He wished his step-father was still alive. He wished his father was a freaking _accountant_ or something of that nature.

Too caught up in his misery, Morgan didn't notice the boat pulling up to the harbor. He did not notice a man hop out, carrying a quaint box. The intruder was dressed in all black, his face hidden in the night.

Cautiously, the man crept passed his boat and out onto the docks of Port Charles, New York. He stepped onto the street like he knew the place, as if it were familiar to him. He noticed the young man crying on a bench further away from him, and hoped the boy wouldn't see him.

But he did.

Morgan Benson looked up and locked eyes with the intruder.

Morgan Benson blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

Morgan Benson stopped crying.

Morgan Benson stared in complete shock.


	28. Thursday

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-eight

* * *

><p>Jasper Jacks did recognize Morgan Benson. He was far too worried that he had been seen by the able-bodied stranger near him. He assumed the young man crying was a sensitive type of bloke, with easy-flowing tears and not much to cry about. He was far too preoccupied to worry about the sorry sight in front of him.<p>

He had a package to deliver.

Perhaps dressing in all black made him a little conspicuous. The mask didn't help much as well. Jax considered all of this and reached towards his ski mask, but hesitated. Say the man crying was sent by someone—anyone—to spy on him. Jax knew he couldn't keep making these trips. He had to let go.

Fingering the small box in his hands, Jax sighed. Soon, his baby girl would grow up. She would never know her father; she would never know the man who loved her more than anything. He could not play Santa Claus (or whoever he was supposed to be) forever. Simple gifts like the one he held in his hands would not make everything 'okay' in Josslynn's mind. She would have questions, he knew. She would wonder why her father abandoned her.

If that was even the story Carly told her. Abandoned. Killed. Died. Ran away. All of those lies added up to one thing. A fatherless childhood. The one thing Jax never wanted for his child, or any of Carly's children, for that matter. They didn't deserve the chaos they were put through. No one deserved that. Not even Sonny Corinthos.

Who was he kidding, anyhow? It was nearly two in the morning. The man crying was probably just moaning about some lost love. Jax ripped off his mask and took in a much-needed breath. He figured he could get the blubbering fool to deliver Joss's gift to her.

"Excuse me, sir-" Jax walked up to the man, who was quick to wipe his eyes. "I was wonde-"

Jax stopped.

If Morgan hadn't been sitting, he would have collapsed. He begged with God that he wasn't hallucinating. He prayed desperately that the person standing in front of him was actually Jasper Jacks.

By the looks of his step-father, he recognized him as well. Jax had since gone quiet, his face contorted somewhere between rage, confusion, and the desire to fight tears.

Morgan tried to speak, but no words came out. He was still bound to his memories, shackled to the past.

"It's you, then?" Jax asked quietly, as if not to speak above the whispering waves.

Morgan shakily stood, wobbling only slightly before nodding. He nodded again and again, until he could convince himself that Jax was really alive.

He owed his father an apology.

"Dear God, Morgan," Jax cleared his throat. "What did they do to you?"

"Jax," Morgan hiccupped and fell into his step-father's arms. Jax was quick to respond, wrapping up his boy in his arms. Morgan, oh, it was Morgan. He had missed him so. Jax had wanted to do so much…_so much_ for the boy. He had wanted to save him where Michael couldn't be saved. He didn't want Morgan to hate his father. He didn't want Morgan to hate him. Yes, Jasper Jacks and Sonny Corinthos did not get along, but they shared one thing in common: they both loved Morgan.

Morgan never wanted to let go. Part of him still didn't believe that Jax was really here. The doubtful part of him. He hadn't really been doubtful until Vinny died. Nevertheless, he pushed past his hard-to-swallow feelings.

His step-father was leaner than when he left, worn down by stress and worry. Morgan, however, had grown strong physically, sharp and…and different. That was the word that kept running through Jax's mind. Different.

"Well, then," Jax sniffed and pulled away. He smiled at Morgan, who was nearly his height now, patting his cheek. "How have you held up?"

"What's the, uh, what's the gift for?" Morgan quickly changed the subject, rubbing his neck.

"Oh," Jax looked down at the package. He had quite nearly forgotten about it until now. "It's for Joss. I—well, Carly and I—we have this sort of deal. Every so often she—_I _come over and I, uh, well, it's complicated." Jax faltered. "It truly is, Morgan. It's…it's just a gift. A necklace. I was thinking she can wear it when she's older. Something from Australia. Maybe it will remind her of me. If she remembers me, I mean-" Jax stopped. He couldn't continue. With twitching hands, he handing the small box to Morgan. Once his hands were free, he wiped his eyes.

"Jax-"

"No. Uh, I'm sorry." Jax sniffed. "I'm not usually—I just want to see my daughter, Morgan."

"I know." Morgan whispered. "I wish you never had left."

"No," Jax shook his head. "You're safer now that I'm gone. Truly." Jax patted his shoulder affectionately.

Morgan didn't say anything. He looked down at the wrapping paper and fingered the delicate bow.

"Can we sit?" Jax asked just as quietly as he had been before. Morgan nodded, distracted. He took a seat next to Jax and took in his casual demeanor, even though the both of them were obviously shaken. Jax was still the same man that he had been before. Dependable, like a rock. He still cared about Joss. He wanted his legacy to carry on. He wouldn't be forgotten like Vinny had slipped from all of those cadet's memories. He would live on.

"How have you been, Morgan?" Jax asked cautiously. "Why were you crying before?"

Morgan tensed up. He didn't mean to be so distant, but as soon as the words left Jax's mouth, Morgan could feel the same agitation building up as before. _Who was he to ask such a question? _

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that." Jax read his mind.

"No," Morgan sighed and rubbed his sleepless eyes. "No, it's nothing that you did." He explained. "It's just a long story, that's all."

Jax nodded, his hands coming together in a firm way. Morgan looked down at his step-father's intertwined fingers. Jax was shaking. Jax was strong. Jax was normal. Jax wasn't crazy.

Crazy. Normal. Two words Dr. Keenan told him not to use. Two words that didn't exist.

"Jax," Morgan looked up. "Why _are _you here?"

Jax stared at him, almost a little dumbfounded. "I couldn't stay away." He shrugged. "I couldn't leave you and Joss and Michael without knowing you were okay." Upon seeing Morgan's expression, he held up his hand. "Now, I know what you're going to say: Sonny would never hurt you. You're right. Intentionally. But his business has ways of finding it's way back to you."

"Does Mom know you're here?"

"She knows that these...these _gifts _are from me. But she has not seen me since-"

"Since you left." Morgan finished. Jax gave him a pained look. A look that asked Morgan for many things. Forgiveness, understanding, peace of mind. All things Morgan was struggling with in his own private hell.

"You know," Jax started. "If the only way I'm going to be able to have contact with my children is through my money, I'm going to have to start making use of it. I…I've been writing your mother-"

"You've _written_?" Morgan interrupted.

"Yes, just a few times. I miss her too." Jax smiled softly. "I miss her laugh." He leaned back and crossed his arms, grinning to himself. "She always had the best laugh. Whenever I see something that I know…I just _know _she would find hilarious, I think of her, and I-" he stopped again. "Well, I-"

"It's okay." Morgan mumbled. "It's okay, I know what you mean."

"Yeah," Jax sighed. "Anyway, she and I were thinking of setting up a college fund for Josslynn." He chuckled. "I've already added to yours and Michael's." He looked at Morgan again for a fleeting second before answering the unspoken question. "I just feel like I have to do _something."_

"Jax." Morgan looked into his step-father's eyes. _"This _is something. You're doing all you can. Thank you."

"Yeah, well," Jax sighed. "I could do more."

Morgan was silent again, leaning against the sturdy back of the bench. He popped his knuckles. He listened to the sounds of his step-father's breaths and felt at peace with each exhale.

"I should go." Jax broke the silence. "I should go and-"

"Will you come back?" Morgan stood up as soon as Jax did, grabbing his arm. Jax was speechless, his shoulders raised in mid-shrug. He stopped before he could finish the action, pulling Morgan in for a hug.

"Oh, Morgan." Jax kissed the top of his son's head and sighed. "I'll try to come back."

"You have to," Morgan pressed closer to him. "You have to come back, Jax. I have to tell you—I have so _much _to tell you."

"Another time, then." Jax pulled back, braving a smile.

"Thursday." Morgan pleaded.

"Thursday?"

"Thursday. C'mon, that in a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Morgan-"

"I thought you were _dead_, Jax. I can't lose you again." Morgan's voice was firm and stronger than he expected. After some hesitation, Jax nodded.

"Thursday." He whispered.

"Okay." Morgan took in a breath, nodded rigidly. "Thursday it is."


	29. Utopia

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter twenty-nine

* * *

><p>To Morgan, Thursdays were becoming somewhat of a holiday. A day when all of his thoughts could become concentrated on one thing: the timely arrival of the <em>Silent Lady. <em> Jax kept his word; he came back every time.

In a way, speaking with Jax once a week was much better therapy than speaking with his family or anyone else for days on end. Carly would get too nosy, Michael kept trying to convince Morgan that he was fine, and Morgan didn't have the heart to tell Molly.

Admittedly, he hadn't spoken to his father in days. Secretly, that was okay. He didn't know how much longer he could continue to fight the urge to speak with Sonny Corinthos—really _speak _to him. Really tell him what was going on. Dr. Keenan told Morgan during a session that it was better for Sonny to hear about his son _from _his son. Made sense on paper. Much harder to perform.

* * *

><p>The <em>Silent Lady <em>teetered against the waves, and Jasper Jacks hoped that his guests would not become seasick. So far, his first visitor had fared well, but the other company coming today was much younger and…

His daughter was _really _coming today. The truth settled its way into Jax, and he took in a deep breath. Maybe he should be sitting down.

_His _daughter. _His _beautiful, precious, baby girl. Oh, he had missed her more than anything in the world. He had missed her when he was in Australia, when he was traveling the world in search for a new life, and he missed her now, when they were so close he could…

He could see her.

Morgan came into view, holding on tight to a small hand. _She was walking. _His baby was walking.

Although Morgan was obviously bending down some to accommodate with his growing sister, she still seemed so much taller than when Jax had last seen her. And her hair had begun to curl at the bottom; her beautiful, blond locks whispering in the wind. She was remarkable.

"Jax," Morgan greeted, his strong voice carrying over the waves, birds, and otherwise normal lives around them.

"Morgan," Jax hopped off of his boat, nearly tripping. He was too preoccupied to notice, he was too caught up in the sight of his baby girl in such a pretty, little dress. She looked like a princess. "I'm glad you could come."

"Don't be thanking _me,"_ Morgan almost laughed, coming closer with each step. "I'm just glad you're back. And so is someone _else." _Morgan nudged his sister with his foot playfully.

Jax slipped to the ground, until he was almost down to his daughter's level. Josslynn, at first, seemed nervous, but with a reassuring look from her brother, she began to head over towards her one and only _dad. _

"Hi, baby girl," Jax held out his arms, unsure of what to do with himself. His voice came out higher than expected, his knees wobbly. He was so scared. Perhaps Josslynn had forgotten about him, perhaps he was just some stranger to her now. _Please, don't forget about me. _

"Do you remember me?" Jax asked softly as Josslynn finally neared him. "Do you remember Daddy?"

All Jax ever wanted was for someone to call him 'Daddy'. As his daughter came to nestle into his arms, he felt whole again. When she called him that one word he had yearned for for months, he felt himself slowly becoming complete again. His hands ran up and down her petite back, his slightly rough cheek pressed against her delicate one. Her small fingers curled around his neck. His heart thumped in his chest, the only thing he could hear. The only thing he wanted to hear.

He was conscious of Morgan stepping into the _Silent Lady_. Moments later he returned, three lifejackets in his able hands.

"You've even got a small one for Joss," he looked at his step-father appreciatively. Jax nodded, kissing his daughter on the forehead once more.

"Yes, well, I'm always prepared." He braved a smile and pulled back. Morgan handed him the lifejacket, and, after some confusion, he was able to properly protect his daughter. Morgan put on his own vest. Together, the three stepped into the _Silent Lady. _

"I'm glad you came today, Morgan." Jax was the first to speak. The three had settled onto the boat, comfortably taking in the atmosphere. Well, the men, that is. Josslynn has since fallen asleep in her father's arms.

"You mean with Josslynn?" Morgan answered evenly, his eyes not leaving the sky, Jax noted. His step-son often spent their time together on his ship staring up at the sky.

"I mean _today."_

"I come every Thursday." Morgan brought his face down and looked at Jax. "Is something wrong?"

Was something wrong? Of course not. Jax was perfectly content. Every Thursday, the two went out on the _Silent Lady. _They spoke of the weather, sports, various memories and other things. They did not dwell on the past; they did not ask prodding questions. In fact, Jax didn't even know where Morgan had been in the years since his disappearance. For all he knew, Morgan was the same person.

"It's just that," Jax took in a deep breath. "People are becoming suspicious."

"What?" Morgan snapped into a sitting position, lighting fast. Surprisingly fast, as if he had been trained to react so. Jax frowned.

"Remember when I came ashore last week?" Jax backtracked. "Someone was following me."

"Following you?" Morgan asked. "Was it one of Dad's guys? Does he know you're here?"

"No, no, Morgan." Jax calmed him down.

"What are you talking about, then?"

"I…" Jax sighed. "It's just not safe for me to stay here much longer. Eventually, people are going to figure out what's going on. Besides, I don't know how much longer I can live in my boat. That's basically what I've been doing."

"So you're leaving again."

"Not forever, Morgan-" Jax made sure his step-son was looking at him. _"Not_ forever. I promise. I will come back for you, and for Michael, and for Josslynn."

"When it's safe." Morgan repeated. Jax gave him a pained look. It's not as if he wanted to leave Morgan and Joss behind, but he knew that the tide would turn one day, and he wouldn't put his children through any more drama and his accord.

"I guess I've been expecting this," Morgan resigned, leaning back against the boat.

"How would you have known?" Jax asked hesitantly.

"I don't know…" Morgan sighed. "All good things have to end sometime."

"Why would you say that?"

Morgan was silent. He didn't want to ruin this too. This relationship that he and Jax had. They didn't talk about anything but the future, and everything was optimistic. Every other day was as dark and pessimistic as always for Morgan.

"You know, Jax, when you left…after you left, we were all kind of lost. My parents didn't really know what to do with me. They ended up sending me to military school."

"Military school?" Jax let out a muffled laugh. "Like climbing walls, crawling through mud, that sort of stuff?"

"Yeah, that sort of stuff." Morgan muttered. "Sounds simple enough."

"Was it?"

"No." Morgan looked at Jax plainly. _"No._ The work, the education…that was easy. The people, though, were much harder to deal with."

"Were you bullied?" Jax's voice sounded concern and frustration. Morgan shrugged.

"I could handle that." He assured Jax. "It was something else that really stuck with me, that really…it's changed my life."

"I don't follow."

"Well, okay." Morgan sat forward. "I can't talk about it. I really can't, Jax. Long story short, I'm sick."

"Sick?"

"Crazy."

"Crazy…"

"Like, Acute Stress Disorder crazy."

"Acute Stress Disorder?"

"Similar to Posttraumatic Stress Disorder." Morgan rubbed his sore hand carefully. Jax had never asked about the hand, either. Always focused on the present. Never dwell on the past. What did it matter, anyhow? The stitches were covered by the cast, there wasn't much to see. "I _might _have Posttraumatic Stress Disorder."

"Morgan-"

"That's…" Morgan took in a deep breath. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I graduated from Sherman-Johnston's a little over a month ago. Since then, I've been trying to decide my future, among other things."

"College?"

"Uh," Morgan fidgeted. "Not really."

"Morgan," Jax started. "College-"

"Yeah, I know, college is very important. I can still go to college—after I serve in the Air Force."

Jax sat back. Jax blinked. Jax played with a lock of his daughter's hair and inhaled deeply.

"The Air Force," he repeated softly. "Wow."

"Jax, when you took me on your plane when I was a kid-" Jax bit down the urge to remind Morgan that he was still a child. "-I loved it. I loved being in the air, being on top of the world. I've never felt so free…it helps." Morgan explained feverishly. "It truly does. I wanted to be just like you when I was younger. You, the talented pilot and loving dad and…and I still want to be like you."

Jax nodded again, curtly this time. Outside, he was trying not to show any emotions. However, on the inside, he was overwhelmed. Going into the Armed Forces was a big deal, something that took much consideration; he hoped Morgan wasn't just trying to impress him or something so simple.

"Won't the…_combat _affect your…illness?" Jax asked cautiously, still half-convinced Morgan wasn't just making up the disorder. _Why would you not believe Morgan? Has he ever lied to you before? Of course not. _

"I don't know," Morgan whispered. "I don't know, Jax. But I _do _know that I want to help my country—my people—and this is a good way to start. I've lost people that I care about, Jax, so maybe, now, I can save people that others care about."

"How old are you?" Jax joked almost a little nervously. The two laughed off his instinct. What did Morgan go through and what happened to the child that Jax had left?

"Eighteen," Morgan chuckled. "Nineteen soon."

"Too soon," Jax answered quickly. Morgan looked at him softly. Jax sighed. "What happened?"

"You mean at school," Morgan clarified. Jax's look only spoke the truth.

"I can't tell you, really." Morgan explained again. "I just can't. Not yet."

"If it was the last time you saw me, would you tell me?" Jax tried a new tactic. "What if this _is _the last time?"

"Are you leaving forever?"

"No, of course not."

Morgan was silent. Slowly, he reached into a bag that contained Josslynn's things. He pulled out three old, torn, spiral notebooks. His hands, shaking as they were, steadily handed the works to Jax.

"There." He whispered. "That's what happened. That's all of it."

Jax did not know if it was all right to move. He ignored the urge to delve into the books.

"Diaries?" He asked.

"_No," _Morgan cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. "It's…it's more of my journal. Everything that happened. Sherman-Johnston's Military Academy. Take it, Jax. I don't want it. I'm done with it. Read it. Burn it. I don't care."

"Morgan," Jax shook his head. "Whatever happened, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't there. I-" he stopped. Something in Morgan's eyes told him to stop. "I wish things could have been different for you."

"Not for me." Morgan said quietly. "They should have been different for someone else."

Before Jax could open his mouth, Josslynn was awake. She stirred ever so slightly before sitting up, smiling at her father brightly.

"Hi, Joss!" Jax beamed. Suddenly, the feelings from before vanished. All that mattered now was that his baby girl was up and needed attention. Oh, he had missed her so much.

"She's great, isn't she?" Morgan asked from what seemed like far away to Jax. It was like the three of them were in their own different world. Utopia.

"_This _is what matters." Jax kissed his daughter. "Being a father. It's the best feeling in the world."

"I believe you." Morgan murmured. "I believe you."

Fathers. That brought Morgan into another world that he cared not to think about. A world known to most as Port Charles.


	30. Connection

Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter thirty

* * *

><p><strong>An: Well, here we are, the last chapter. I want to thank all of the kind and adamant reviewers-you guys truly kept me going. This was such a different and interesting story to write, and I hope you readers enjoyed this story as I much as I did. **

**May 28th is Memorial Day, and so, for all those in the Armed Forces, I say thank you.**

* * *

><p>Sometimes, having a crazy girlfriend really got to Sonny Corinthos. Well, he shouldn't say <em>crazy.<em> By all accounts, he himself was 'crazy'. Kate Howard was just…

Insane? No, Connie Falconeri was insane. Kate Howard was troubled, weak, fragile…utterly in love with him. Kate Howard would never betray him the way that Connie Falconeri did.

Connie, Kate, the whole Dissociative Identiy Disorder thing was hard to wrap his mind around. D.I.D., Bipolar, and now Sonny's own _son, _Morgan, was suffering from some kind of mental illness. Days earlier, his frantic ex-wife, Carly, had called him and explained the damage. And, of course, she had called to accuse him.

It was always his fault with her, wasn't it? If _Sonny _hadn't attempted to kill Jax, _Carly _wouldn't have felt obligated to send Morgan away, thus rendering him of any disorder. So yes, this was his entire fault. To which Sonny promptly reminded her that it was _she _that wanted Jax out of the picture to protect her daughter. Carly promptly hung up.

Besides, Sonny Corinthos did not need his _ex-_wife to tell him things he already knew. Of course he felt responsible about what Morgan was going through. After all, it was because of him that Carly sent Morgan away in the first place, which angered Sonny. He couldn't be trusted to keep his son safe, is that what Carly was saying?

"Boss," Milo poked his head in the door. Sonny looked up, his train of thought lost. Milo seemed to know that he had interrupted Sonny, and cleared his throat sheepishly.

"Your son's here."

"Which son?"

"Morgan, sir."

"Morgan?" Sonny repeated. _Speak of the devil. _"Bring him in."

"Dad," Morgan brushed past Milo immediately, as if he had been close behind all along. "Dad-"

"What?" Sonny stood up hastily. "What's wrong?"

"Dad," Morgan took in a deep breath, trying desperately to control his shaking hands. "Just…listen. I've got to tell you something, and it's really important but just," Morgan sighed. _"Don't_ say anything, okay?"

"Is this about your illness?" Sonny asked. Morgan stopped, frowning.

"My what?"

"You know, your disorder." Sonny shrugged. "Your mother told me, son."

"Oh, um, I guess-"

"Because I know how you feel son, I really do. I und-"

"No, you _don't _know how I feel!" Morgan shouted, his voice rising above the rooftops. "You don't know the first thing about me!"

"Son-"

"I thought you were listening?" Morgan retorted, before slipping into a chair. He closed his eyes and tried to recollect himself.

"You don't know how I feel because I was sent away because of you. You don't know what happened when I was away at school."

"I assume that…whatever happened was private-"

"When I was at school, Dad, Mom changed my name to Benson. She thought that the students at school would bother me if they knew I was the son of a mob-boss."

"I resp-"

"You're not _listening. _It didn't work. The cadets, they eventually found out. They found other ways to make fun of me. I came to school halfway through the year, I was fresh meat. No one understood me and I didn't try to understand them. And then, another kid came.

"His name was Vinny Triste. Italian kid, real New Yorker. He was pretty shy…really shy, actually. The other cadets, they loved it. They could beat him up or…I don't know, do whatever they wanted to him, and he wouldn't say a thing, Dad. Not one word. He only had one friend.

"_I _was that friend. _I _was the only one he talked to. Other kids bothered him about his height, how weak he was, how skinny he was, how he got to military school in the first place…everything. I don't think he was ever called by his actual first name, except when I was talking to him.

"I understood him, and he understood me. He was a couple years younger, but that was all right. It was like, finally, I was the older brother. I was taking care of someone. It was nice."

"Uh," Morgan sniffed. "Right before I left for military school, Michael, Krissy and Molly all chipped in to get me a signed baseball card of my favorite player."

"Mickey Mantle," Sonny remembered fondly.

"Reggie Jackson." Morgan corrected. And awkward silence fell over the two. "Anyway, I took this card wherever I went. It was always in my pocket, like a good luck charm. I almost lost it, once, and Vinny and I spent _forever _trying to get it back. Some boys nicked it from me. Well, that doesn't matter anymore, but we got the card back. Vinny signed the back of the card when I wasn't looking.

"At first, I was furious at him for 'ruining my card'. But, now-" Morgan stopped, swallowing a painful lump in his throat. "Now, I'm glad he did.

"Thing was, Dad, I got bigger. I got stronger over the years, I could defend myself the way Jason taught Michael to defend himself and…well, kids stopped bothering me, save a few. But Vinny, oh, my best friend, he never changed. He stayed the same. Like a _rock. _That gave the other cadets all the ammunition they needed to keep pushin' him around until…until he couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't…I don't blame the cadets because they all come from pretty tough backgrounds, just like Vinny, and maybe pushin' smaller guys around was the only way they knew how to prove to themselves and others they were important…I don't know. The only person I blame is myself—I didn't get there in time.

"One night, Dad, Vinny got a gun and he…he…" Morgan bit his lip, his voice cracked. His hands shook. "Vinny's dead."

Sonny didn't say anything. Morgan wished he would. Morgan wished his father could say something to make everything better, to make him feel like he had years before, when Vinny Triste was not in his life and all he thought about was the next Yankee game and endless homework.

"Vinny shot himself, and he's dead, and I watched it all. And now, I can't let it go. Gosh, Dad, every day is the same for me. Wake up after countless nightmares of that night, try to get through the day, try to sleep, and start the cycle all over again. And I get so _angry. All the time. _I wish I could let it go, I wish I could forget the past, live for the future, all that crap. But I can't, Dad, I can hardly get out of bed. I'm _so _mad and I'm _so _done with it.

"People that I talk to, that know you, they're quick to point the finger at you. They want you to pay, to take responsibility for what I've become. But I c-can't blame you. I already blame myself. I can hardly look in the mirror without knowing that I could have done something to prevent Vinny's d-death. So, no, I don't…" Morgan swallowed down the lump again, his brows furrowed together. He could hear his father's ragged breaths across from him.

It was time to leave.

"I forgive you." Morgan looked up. "I forgive you."

* * *

><p>Walking into Kelly's late that night; Morgan was able to catch Shawn Butler before he closed up the diner.<p>

"Shawn," he thought aloud, taking a seat in the nearest chair. "Did you ever have ASD?"

Shawn looked up casually. "Sure," he shrugged.

"No, I mean, were you diagnosed with ASD before you were diagnosed with PTSD?"

Shawn came over to sit next to the curious, young man. "When I was diagnosed, I had let my PTSD control me for far too long. It was…months after what happened, and I still hadn't received the help I needed. Luckily, my sisters gave me a nudge in the right direction."

"Do you think I will be diagnosed with PTSD?" Morgan whispered, his voice small.

"Time will tell," Shawn spoke wisely. "We have to be patient."

Morgan knew Shawn was right, and he was glad to have someone living so close to him dealing with the same sort of thing Morgan was dealing with.

Above them, someone slammed their apartment door. The sound resonated throughout the building, and rang through Morgan's ears. A gun shot. Someone was shooting guns. Someone was shooting Vinny.

"Easy, easy," Shawn settled the boy down. "Just a door."

"Oh, damn!" Morgan cursed, slowing removing his hands from his ears. "Doesn't that bother you?" He exclaimed.

"Yes," Shawn nodded. "Yes."

Morgan groaned, placing his head in his hands. He breathed in and out, in and out, until he felt like he was okay to look up again. When he did, Shawn was still there, staring calmly at him with dark, steady eyes.

"Does Posttraumatic Stress Disorder ever go away?" Morgan asked just as quietly as before. "Will I ever be normal again?"

Shawn was quiet. He patted Morgan on the back and smiled softly. "Everybody is different, Morgan. Everyone deals with trauma in their own ways."

"Why?" Morgan finally spoke his thoughts. "Why me? Why this?"

"God's testing you." Shawn's voice was deep and comforting. "He wants to make sure you're listening." He let the words settle in to the young man. They were too much alike.

"Come, let's go for a walk."

And walk they did. They walked through the neighborhoods, their only trail a mere sidewalk. They walked past buildings and cars and everything in between. The walked until morning broke the sky, the two men alone with their thoughts. They walked until they reached a small park, where the cool grass was wet with dew and trees blanketed the scene.

Shawn stopped long enough to stare out at the rising sun, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Morgan stopped a little behind him, watching Shawn Butler more than the sight of early morning.

Shawn had Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, yet he was happy. He seemed genuinely content with his life. Morgan never would have guessed something was wrong with Shawn if the man hadn't brought it up himself.

And all this, about Vinny and school and the card…he was glad he told his father. Morgan was happy his father knew. So he was happy about one thing.

He was glad that he was able to see Jax, if just for a brief time.

He was glad that he was the one that brought Jax and Josslynn back together.

He was glad that, until the last part, he got to play ball with T.J. and Michael.

He was glad that his brother and sister-in-law took him to a Yankee game.

He was glad that Shawn was here.

Shawn was fine.

Morgan would be, too.

* * *

><p>http:  / maketheconnection (dot) net/


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